Storming Skies
by Araceil
Summary: It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament. Gokudera/Harry (Firecracker). Post KHR-Canon. Love Ritual Cliche - but different.
1. Ritual

_**000**_

**Storming Skies**

_It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament_. Gokudera/Harry.

_**000**_

**Chapter One  
Ritual**

_**000**_

Miura Haru was disappointed.

At sixteen years of age, she had been in love for the last two years with the kindest, bravest, most amazing young man ever, Sawada Tsunayoshi. She had been cruel to him but he never spoke ill to her, and even saved her life when she fell into the river in her heavy hockey equipment and nearly drowned. He hadn't even hesitated before he was diving in headfirst roaring that he would save her 'With His Dying Will'. She had chased and supported him for two years, holding a friendly rivalry with her new bestfriend Sasagawa Kyoko who was in Tsuna-kun's class at school. The two of them were bestfriends and both of them liked Tsuna. Both of them agreeing that no matter who won the race for Tsuna's heart, they would _still_ be bestfriends at the end.

But it didn't stop Haru from being disappointed when it became clear that Kyoko would always be the girl in Tsuna-kun's heart and head. She... she hadn't even been considered. And it hurt.

She loved Tsuna for how sweet and brave he was. And while she knew he viewed her as a precious friend it...

The girl sighed as she helped Bianchi and I-pin set out the food in the kitchen. Today, everyone had gotten together at Tsuna-kun's house to celebrate Kaoru-kun's birthday, as one of the oldest of the group he was turning eighteen today, November 24th. It was a big day so they were going all out. Both she and Kyoko had spent hours yesterday making sure the cake, big enough for everyone, was shaped like a baseball. Kaoru-kun was a nice boy, it was almost sweet the way he would trail behind Takeshi-kun like a puppy, eager to jump into whatever the Rain Guardian thought was a good idea at the time. If she hadn't known that Takeshi was crushing on the baseball team's manager Izumi-chan then she would have thought there was something a little more than hero-worship going on there.

As she began to unroll the clingfilm from the platters of sweet-meat nibbles, she couldn't help but flick her eyes over to their Storm Guardian as he valiantly tried to fend off the attentions of that quite frankly _abnormal_ girl with the purple hair who constantly went around flashing everyone. Oh, Shitopi-chan was perfectly nice, _and_ she was really smart, but Haru didn't like her. She acted like she was better than everyone around her, and Haru didn't like how she was constantly trying to get into Gokudera-kun's personal space.

The dark haired girl huffed as she balled up the clingfilm and turned away from the tawdry sight. Gokudera could handle himself. After the first three months following the incident with the Shimon students, he seemed to have settled down his idea that the girl in question was an UMA and taken to avoiding her. She was just some weirdly dressed fangirl as far as Haru was concerned. What did she know about Gokudera that she, Haru, didn't already? There was history between the two of them. Not that purple haired attention seeker.

Hahi?! She didn't – that was cruel! She should be ashamed of herself thinking such horrible things!

Haru shook her head and binned the clingfilm before beginning to unwrap the rest of the platters. Watching from the corner of her eye as Tsuna-kun came in and gave Kyoko – who was busying herself making a mountain of sandwiches – a kiss on the cheek, hugging her from behind.

She swallowed back her jealousy and the voice in her head that said it should have been her receiving that. She would have her moment, just... not yet.

Her eyes flicked back to Gokudera-kun who had finally warded off Shitopi-chan and was now grumpily snatching up a mochi from one of the unwrapped platters. It was pretty much an unspoken fact. The girl who failed to get the guy, ended up with his bestfriend. An established trope throughout literature, manga, TV soaps, and films. Second best always ended up with the second best guy. Haru supposed Gokudera wasn't so bad, he was just... abrasive to anyone that wasn't Tsuna. Haru couldn't blame him over much, not when she knew about his history. Bianchi had shared it with her in the bath, telling her the raw unvarnished truth of what her younger brother had gone through and then pointing out how it had affected him.

Looking back, Haru realised that the rosette haired woman had seen the way that Tsuna's interests had been leaning and advised her about her brother ahead of time. Silently supporting their union. Even if her brother was unaware of what was going to happen, all the girls knew it would. Haru was, perhaps, a little less enthusiastic but she could warm to the idea. Gokudera-kun was smart, and he was brave, and once you had his loyalty you had it until death. As a Plan B, he wasn't half bad. She just had to teach him some manners first!

"Hahi! Leave the food alone! It's not ready yet!" she snapped, lobbing the balled up length of clingfilm in her hand and bouncing it off the Storm Guardian's head.

"Shut up, woman, it's just a mochi, damnit!" he snapped brusquely in return.

"Hayato," his sister reprimanded lowly only to receive a glower and scoff from her younger brother who stalked out of the room and away from the stung young woman who hissed after him, poking her tongue out angrily before returning to tearing clingfilm off food platters with, perhaps, more aggression than was warranted.

Gokudera huffed as he stalked back into the living room where the cow was playing with Fuuta under Rauji's watchful eye, Koyo was already fighting with Ryohei, Adelheid trying to stop them while fending off Julie's sexual harassment. Baseball freak and baseball freak 2.0 were gushing over magazines and 2.0's latest present – a signed catcher's mitt from some famous baseball player. A seven year old looking Reborn was terrorising a ten year old looking Skull who was trying to hide behind Enma who was also being terrorised by Reborn. And Chrome was chatting quietly with Shitt P in the corner – he conspicuously avoided that corner with a scowl as he threw himself down on one of the sofas and grabbed a drink to wash down the sticky leftovers from his stolen mochi.

He wasn't blind. Those damn women could pretend all they liked but he was _not_ oblivious. Fuck, he'd figured this whole bullshit out a year before they did when that damn irritating woman came into their lives. He was just as familiar with the cliché as the rest of them, only he had calculated their personalities into the whole thing and come to the conclusion that it wouldn't work out no matter how hard she tried. No matter how hard _he_ tried. Haru may have been book smart, but she was a simpleton and an airhead to boot. Not to mention pushy and self-righteous. Four things he loathed above almost all else. She was so frickin' controlling. Did she know a damn thing about him beyond what his sister had told her? No. Did his sister know anything beyond what she'd _observed_, because he sure as hell never told her what he thought or felt or got up to? No again.

But now that Tsuna had made his choice clear, everyone and their fucking dogs were expecting him and that woman to get closer and hook up as well. Just because everyone else in their group was beginning to pair off.

No thank you.

Just because she couldn't get Juudaime did not mean that he was willing to play second fiddle for her. He had spent long enough being that for his father, being the 'settlement' because he couldn't have his mother. Not being loved on his own merit, only because he had to and then later because he was all that was left. No, he wasn't going to go through that painful doubt and self-loathing ever again, not for her, not for his sister. Not even for Juudaime. He would give his life for that man, but not his sense of self.

So, as the party progressed, he did his best to act no differently to the woman than he did to Kyoko-san, or Adelheid, or even his own sister. I-pin was just a kid, he liked her, though her taste in boys was freaky weird (crushing on Hibari? Girl had issues). Shitt P... the less he remembered their disastrous and short period as boyfriend and girlfriend (lasting barely a week), the happier he would be. The fact that she cheated on him for that freak Naito Longchamp was just... twisting the knife. And she was entirely unapologetic about it! Coming back as if expecting him to have his arms open and welcoming her whore-self back.

She said it best during the Pride Matches. There was no one she loved more than herself.

Well, she was welcome to herself then.

He had a little more self-respect than to be involved with someone who didn't give a shit whether they upset or hurt him as long as they were having fun. Not a healthy relationship and not one that he had any intention of being part of. Hence why he refused to let her talk him back into her thrall. Hence why he refused to pay attention to Haru's not so subtle reluctant flirting, her considering looks, or the way she kept trying to offer him things that he didn't like. Once upon a time he may have been alright with it, but that was before Juudaime, before Tsuna, before he found a home that accepted him for who he was, for him and him alone, not his family or connections. He was no longer the desperately lonely young boy who wanted to be loved on his own merit or not, Juudaime gave him a home, a sky, all his own.

Since it was a birthday, they were forbidden to talk about any Mafia business under pain of a Reborn styled punishment, so in the end, Gokudera ended up discussing geology with Rauji for half the party before Lambo jumped on his back demanding attention. He got a noogie and a pulled tail (he was seven now, why the fuck was he still wearing that damn cow suit?!) before he got unceremoniously punted into the hallway where I-pin and Fuuta were playing. Rauji laughed and went to go and deal with him when Lambo started screaming about his being rough. Then Haru swooped in shrieking at him for being a bully and – ugh, enough!

The silver haired boy grunted and stalked away from her, instead of staying to argue. He didn't want to deal with her. With their stupid ass expectation that he would willingly swallow his self-respect and date the harpy woman just to make _her_ happy, make _her_ feel wanted because Juudaime couldn't stand her pushy behaviour either.

Compared to Kyoko, who's only fault so far was her ridiculous naivety and willingness to swallow any bullshit story her brother fed her, the woman was a harpy not fit for human interaction. She was damn useless for anything that wasn't cooking or cleaning and Hayato had _zero_ interest in a fucking _trophy_ wife!

He pretended to ignore the disapproving looks from his sister and from a few of the others as he left, stepping out into the garden and down the path to the street outside the gate where he leaned against the wall, looking around at the darkened surroundings in mild surprise. A quick check of his watch as he rummaged for his box of cigarettes and lighter confirmed that it was eleven PM as he lit up. Deeply inhaling, he felt his irritation ebb, and muscles relax a little as he stared up at the sky, unable to see a great deal of its majesty thanks to the local light pollution.

Of all the women he knew, the only ones he could stand were I-pin (too young), Kyoko-san (taken), and Chrome (also taken – but by a kufufu-ing bastard. She could do better). And after the first time he was honest about a certain little secret, Hayato wasn't keen on letting anyone become aware that he could also quite comfortably bat for the other team, so to speak. Fuck, he'd been hanging around the baseball idiot too long if he was using analogies like that. He lit up another cigarette, idly wondering when the last time he got so stressed he chain-smoked was. And the number of guys he could see himself hooking up with was even more depressingly short. Rauji maybe. But, ah, he didn't think he would be happy with such a relationship, for one, it would get boring with the larger boy bending to his every whim the same way he did to the cow. Which was another issue of annoyance. Someone good with kids he was fine with, someone who bent to the every desire of the rascals was not, it was disgusting. How were they supposed to learn better behaviour if they weren't punished for bad behaviour?

He didn't care if he was demanding too much. No one was perfect, least of all him, but that didn't mean he was going to _settle_ because he couldn't find someone he loved, someone who could actually _love_ him back. His friends could try to push him onto Haru as much as they liked but it didn't change the fact that she didn't love him, and he didn't love her. She was _settling_. He refused to.

Lighting another cigarette, his third that night, he leaned against the wall and stared up at the stars. It wasn't a bad way to pass his time, he decided. His eyes traced the constellations as he blew smoke rings through the air, the light from the house behind him turning them silvery grey as they dissipated above his head.

If he was going to settle down, he wanted someone he could love, someone who would love him back. Not fiery passion and full of mistakes, though that had its appeal, no, he wanted to grow old with this person. He wanted someone to make a home with, someone to _be_ his home. Someone who could keep up with him mentally and not just in intelligence, someone who could _understand_. He wouldn't have to be there constantly to protect them because they could fight and stand at his side without fear. Someone who could actually accept the Mafia and the Vongola and not have that wet-puppy expression on their faces when something happened. Someone who didn't care about his financial situation – because the second it got out that his dad was filthy rich, the number of fangirls that followed him around tripled. Never mind that he hadn't spoken to the man since he ran away at eight years of age, or that he was living in a crummy apartment in the bad part of town steadily draining through his savings (though now he was receiving a stripend from the Vongola as one of the Decimo's Guardians, it was more than he knew what to do with in all honesty).

"Gokudera-kun?" The silver haired Storm Guardian rolled his head lazily to where Juudaime was watching him from the gateway, his amber-brown eyes catching the lights from the house behind him, perfectly highlighting the expression of concern and guilt on his face. An expression that never failed to make Hayato feel like crap for worrying him. He dropped the cigarette and crushed it under toe.

"Juudaime, is everything okay?" he asked, turning fully to the smaller teen. He shook his head.

"Yes but... Are _you_ okay, Gokudera-kun? I saw..." he trailed off, biting his lip. Saw what? Hayato frowned a little, perplexed and tilting his head in confusion. Juudaime shifted, glancing over his shoulder for onlookers before up at him. "I'm sorry... about the way Haru's been treating you, the rest of the girls too..." he said softly, making Hayato huff in annoyance.

"Don't apologise for them, Juudaime. Their actions have nothing to do with you and I would never think of holding you responsible for them," he stated boldly, folding his arms and nodding firmly.

Juudaime shook his head, "Because I lead Haru on, everyone thinks you'll clean up my mess now that I'm with Kyoko-chan and it isn't _fair_ on you!" he burst out before glancing once again over his shoulder at the house, thankfully it seemed that Ryohei and Koyo's fight had reached a crescendo of chaos now that Lambo had gotten involved and his voice went unnoticed. "You don't love Haru. You barely tolerate her at times. And everyone's pressuring you to set aside your feelings just to make her happy," he mumbled miserably.

Hayato sighed and placed a hand on his Sky's shoulder, Tsuna jerked and looked up at him with those unreal brown eyes that somehow reflected amber in the golden light from the Sawada house to his right, Hayato flashed him a thumbs up. It was the kind of cheesy Japanese move that his Juudaime would understand and appreciate, "Don't worry about me, Juudaime. I've come a long way from where I used to be, thanks to you. I'm not going to settle for anything less than love. Promise," he assured his bestfriend, his Boss, his Sky. There had been a time when he had loved this amazing man in front of him, but he knew even then that the love he felt could never be romantic, never be sexual. He loved Tsuna like a brother, like a friend, like someone whom he could not spend his life without. But never as someone he could... Ahh, he knew what he meant. Heterosexual life partners (even if one of them was a little less than heterosexual). Little old men who would sit at the same retirement home, joking about the old days as grand-children dropped by to visit. That sounded good.

Tsuna smiled, fears set to rest and Hayato counted it as a mental win, "Come on. The girls are setting up some kind of occult party game they found out about at school," he said gesturing back to the house.

Hayato's interest was instantly peaked. Occult party game? As much as he may have ragged on the Harpy, she too was interested in the Occult and she did research the information she found, it was one of the few subject matters they could discuss without it degenerating into a vicious argument that he _had_ to walk away from before he hit her (which wasn't gentlemanly and his sister would have had his balls for earbobs if he did).

The two made their way back inside, Hayato tossing a soft mint in his mouth as he went – he did not want to deal with the bitching about bad breath. Inside, the chaos of Ryohei and Koyo's fight had been set to rights, most of them were in the kitchen picking up plates of food, in the living room, all the girls had set up some kind of cauldron in a ritual circle. A quick sniff confirmed the scent of basil, sage, and mallowsweet in the air, along with something peppery.

They turned eerie smiles onto him and he felt his hackles rise in reaction.

"What's this?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. Mentally, he wondered if he shouldn't have gone to the kitchen for food first, this stank of a set up.

The harpy gave him a strained smile, "Hahi, it's a Love Ritual designed to show you your soul mate. You salt the ground, and then you speak about what you want in a partner, burning a leaf of sage, basil, and mallowsweet. The smoke from the herbs'll wrap around the person you're meant to be with," she explained with a knowledgeable nod, "It works too. Back before the Roman occupation of England, the Pagans would do the ritual after a girl's first blood to show who she was supposed to marry."

Hayato scoffed, "And they also used to say if you stick a cooking spoon under your bed when you're pregnant you'll give birth to a girl," he sneered dismissively, apparently at the wrong time because Ryohei was suddenly behind him and giving him a push towards the girls. There was a hard glint in his eyes even as he smiled around his takoyaki.

"You scared, Tako-head?" he challenged loudly.

The Storm Guardian twitched, his temper rising, "It's a dumbass school girl love-scam, what the fuck is there to be scared of, idiot LAWN HEAD?" he roared, feeling a nerve throb under his eye as his stress levels once again shot through the roof.

"Then why don't you take part for once? Haru went to a lot of effort to set up something that would interest you, Hayato," his sister interrupted, her voice oh-so-reasonable, and layered with enough menace to turn the Takoyaki in Ryohei's hand purple and viscous (he immediately spat out the purple remnants of his prior takoyaki onto the plate). The silver haired teenager glared furiously at his sister. Did she _always_ have to do this? Try and dictate his life for 'his own good'? Force him to stay with his asshole father, force feed him her foul poison cooking, and now force him onto the Harpy?

Fine. You know what, FINE!

They want him to take part in that fucking ritual, OKAY.

"FINE!"

Snarling, he whipped around and snatched the herb bowl and salt, throwing the sea-salt forcefully onto the ground he then flung a handful of basil leaves into the large metal washing-up bowl filled with scented tea-light candles.

"I want a partner who won't try to control my life! Someone who can fucking take care of themselves – so I won't have to hold their damn hand! Someone who can accept the mafia for what they are and doesn't care! Someone who won't fucking _SETTLE_ on me because they can't get the one they want!"

Haru full body flinched, recoiling backwards away from the cloying smoke of the tea-light filled bowl as Hayato threw another handful of leaves in, the bitter scent of burning Sage flooding the air, mingling with the basil.

"I want someone who won't give a crap about my heritage, that I'm a bastard, or my family is full of abusive controlling murderous freaks!"

Bianchi reared back as if slapped, blanching in shock and hurt.

"Someone intelligent I can actually have a conversation with! Someone loyal and kind, who won't sit back on their ass when they see something they don't agree with! Someone who isn't afraid to tell me when I'm wrong but won't get in my fucking face about it and scream at me without a fucking explanation why! Someone who won't leave me high and dry if I need them to have my back! I don't want a one-way fucking street relationship! I want someone I can actually fucking love! Someone I can grow old with!

"I want. A fucking. SOUL. MATE!" he roared, glaring hard enough at Haru who trembled, white and small across the otherside of the metal washing-up bowl as he sneered. Stupid little fucking harpy bitch. He gave a passing thought to apologise to Baseball Idiot 2.0 for ruining his birthday later (get him a Yankees shirt or something) as, to add insult to injury, he slammed the last of the herbs, sea-salt, and even the bowl itself, into the burning candles – relishing the satisfying crash they made along with the sudden upblow of smoke that choked the room.

He turned to leave, unwilling to sit there for the aftermath. His sister screaming, the Harpy crying, I-pin looking at him like he'd stabbed her cat, Reborn shaking his head with quiet disapproval, Tsuna wincing and looking torn and guilty and wretched for encouraging him back into the house. No, he didn't want to stick around for that.

And then the floor dropped out beneath him.

His eyes bugged out in horror as he realised he was staring at open sky.

Bright open sky. Daylight open sky.

Open sky in midair.

Open sky in midair HIGH above the ground.

He was falling.

And then he hit something and felt the whole world jerk to one side as something thin and hard went around him, holding on firmly.

And yelping in surprise and shock.

Pale jade green met vivid emerald green.

It was hard to tell which of them wore the expression of greater surprise, Hayato, or this strange boy with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen and windswept black hair and dorky ancient black round glasses.

And then a roar of epic proportions, a yowling screeching scream that grated and vibrated off his eardrums worse than any of Lambo's screeches, tore the air and Hayato couldn't stop his eyes from sliding off the boy's suddenly grim expression to behind him and – _**WAS THAT A MOTHER FUCKING DRAGON?!**_

His breath froze in his lungs and his whole body went cold as he just... drank in the sight of the beast behind and beneath them.

It – she because Hayato could see a nest of eggs just under her writhing form – was immense in size, sleek and lizard-like with matt-black scales, dotted here and there with a fleck of bronze and gold. Definitely over sixty feet in length and corded with powerful rippling muscle that bunched and knotted under the bristling protection of thorny black scales, she had a shorter neck than he would have anticipated on a dragon and her jaw and snout were not long and slender but rather wide and stumpy – to accommodate the massive frilled ridge of spikes and horns that crowned her lower jaw, eyebrows, and the top of her head in gold and bronze. Her snout was hooked, with a beak not unlike that of a raptor bird of prey, hard and gleaming, and with her mouth open, he could see the configuration of fangs and teeth looking like a mixture between a shark, lion, and a turtle from hell, back-lit with a haze of heat and - ("HOLD ON!" shouted in English)

The world rolled to the side as the dragoness sent a towering spout of flame over forty feet into the air and straight at them.

Out of reflex, Hayato clung to the boy as it felt like his body was going to fall again even as everything spun around like a roller-coaster ride from hell, a thin, tiny body curling around him and moving purposefully as if – as if –

_**They were on a motherfucking broomstick.**_

_**They were flying on a motherfucking broomstick.**_

"Y-You're crushing me!" his pilot gasped in English, wheezing under Hayato's vice-grip.

The dragon screeched again, rearing up onto her hind-legs in order to get closer to them, that vicious maw opening wide yet again to unleash a burst of hellfire.

Hayato's breath caught in that split second heartbeat.

She was magnificent. Utterly breath taking. Huge powerful wings spread open for balance, each wing easily defeating the wing-span of a jumbo jet, the smell of animal musk, sulphur, and lizard filling his nose like nothing he had ever experienced before in his life as the light gleamed dully, menacingly on that rack of horns and spines, a red glow spilling from between gleaming white fangs.

And then the moment ended as the black haired boy cursed, colourfully. "HOLD ON TIGHT!" he shouted over the sound of the Dragon's rage before suddenly they were dropping like a stone.

Hayato would deny it for the rest of his life, but he screamed as the ground rose-up like an unforgiving iron fist waiting to flatten them into piles of blood and gore and broken bone. But instead of pulling up, the black haired boy merely narrowed his eyes behind those ridiculous glasses and leaned forward even further, speeding up!

The Italian wheezed, his eyes bugging out.

The boy heaved on the broom under him, the world shifted and – HE TOOK HIS HANDS OFF THE BROOM – lunging over him, the boy snatched something gold up and out of the nest, shoving it roughly into Hayato's lap before they were gone out, skimming up the side of – of – an arena?

The dragon _screamed_, and there was a sound of tearing metal and panicked shrieks.

Hayato twisted, looking over the boy's shoulder, grimly clutching the golden... thing. "Go faster!" he yelled over the rushing wind, his eyes widening in panic. "GO FUCKING FASTER!"

"I'M GOING AS FAST AS I CAN WITH TWO PEOPLE!" the boy shouted back, an edge of hysteria in his voice as the dragon roared, the chain that had kept her restrained on the ground nothing more than a swinging decoration as she chased them through the sky.

She opened her jaws wide and they rolled, speeding forward and streaking out of danger by a hair's breadth. Hayato could feel the _heat_ of that flame, enough to make his skin tighten in discomfort before the cold November chill lashed against it painfully with their speed. He held tightly to the dark haired boy, making sure to keep one arm wrapped around the gold orb-like thing in his lap (if he was desperate enough to face a dragon for it then it had to be pretty important, never mind the arena of people watching and doing fuck all to help). Whatever kind of event this was, the boy seemed to have it well in hand, managing to outfly the dragon with Hayato weighing him down _and_ managing to scoop up the golden object. It let the Storm Guardian relax a little, enough so to actually get a look at his surroundings.

Sans flying broom, and dragon, he could already tell he most definitely wasn't in Japan anymore. It was approaching midnight when he left, and it was daylight here. Given the temperature and the colour of the sky, seeing as it was late November, he was pegging it as pretty damn FAR in the West, Europe probably. He would like to say England because his pilot spoke English with a very clear British accent, but in Europe that wasn't really indicative of much beyond where the kid was raised. And considering how they were being chased by a _dragon_... Hayato wasn't putting the fact that he could have been from fucking Jupiter out of his considerations. Maybe UMAs spoke with British Accents on Jupiter. He didn't fucking know!

They rocketed past a castle spire, Hayato's attention seized by the architecture as they circled away from it at a wide angle. White, ancient stone, good solid flint roof-tiling, diamond shaped multi-panelled glass windows framed in lead, it was classically medieval, complete with gargoyles. He was definitely in Europe. But architecture was never his strong point, he could pin-point several ways to bring the whole tower down with explosives he didn't have on him (he'd stupidly left them at home because Juudaime didn't want a fight breaking out), but he couldn't tell you if it was German or British, or even Spanish. It wasn't Russian, he could tell that much.

"I need you to get behind me!" the boy shouted over the rushing wind when it looked like they were in the clear, "I can't manoeuvre properly with you in front!" he added in explanation.

Hayato nodded, reasonable enough. The kid was doing phenomenonly well even with Hayato's skinny ass occupying his arms. "Got it!" he shouted to show he heard before adjusting his grip and shifting his legs. You know, in all honesty, discounting the frankly unreal elements of all this, it was almost like any other kind of chaos that managed to chase Juudaime's heels. Right down to the giant impossible animals. At least no one had tried to kill him yet, aside from the dragon, but she was an animal and thus didn't count. There wasn't even a whiff of Dying Will Flames or Box Weapons to speak of (thank god he never took Uri's belt-buckle off, he didn't know how he would cope if she had been left in Japan, Juudaime would have taken care of her but he would still go crazy with worry. She was hard to deal with at the best of times even for people she adored, like Juudaime).

Something flashed in the corner of his eye and the boy was suddenly throwing himself over Hayato, skinny arms snapping around him as they fell into a steep nose-dive.

"Never mind! Just... Hold on! Wrap your legs- around me!" he shouted, voice faltering a little over the wind as Hayato adjusted his grip – he was probably leaving bruises with how tightly he was holding on. The Storm Guardian managed to manoeuvre himself so he was sat straddling the other boy, legs wrapped around his waist, gold orb between them, one arm went around the boy and the other around the egg.

The boy pulled sharply on the nose of the broom and they shot away towards a large placid lake, so deep and murky that it looked black. He was breathing hard and trembling under Hayato's grip as water fountained up behind them with the force of their passing.

A shriek from behind drew his attention back to the dragon who swooped in behind them.

The boy grit his teeth, "Hold tight!" he shouted before they flipped over, flying upside down!

Hayato cursed, loudly and violently as the boy produced a thin foot-long wooden rod from somewhere on his person, a goddamn wand, really? And directed it at the water beneath them, gathering it at the tip of the wand as they flew.

Hayato looked over his shoulder at the dragon, her mouth glowing with the onset of flame.

A kingdom for a stick of dynamite!

"HOLD!" the boy suddenly bellowed shortly, Hayato reflexively clamping down on everything within his grasp as, with a sharp, violent movement, the boy kicked out one leg, the whole broom rolling to an almost 90-degree turn, and the wand snapping up.

A bolt of lake water speared into the dragon's open glowing maw.

Hayato watched as they flew onwards as the dragon shrieked, her whole body recoiling in a mixture of pain, confusion, and shock, her massive bulk hitting the lake and flailing, huge black wings beating uselessly against the water as she screeched and clawed – steam and black smoke issuing from between her jaws. Unable to breathe fire for some reason.

The boy flew them steadily back to the arena.

Hayato watched as the stands practically _boiled_ with people his age and younger, all of them wearing an odd uniform of colour-coded robes. There were three other, much smaller stands, one of which holding girls in blues and greys, the other of boys in red and black, the final one had a table in front of it with officials and behind them were various other 'responsible' adults. Inside the arena was the nest, filled with a multitude of cement coloured eggs, now clustered around by various men and women in practical, slightly scorched, leather armour.

A muscular red head was waving them down and the boy took them in for a significantly less than graceful landing as they hit the ground and tumbled across the sand. The wind getting knocked out of Hayato as they came to a stop, the dark haired boy lying on top of him panting and shaking.

He shoved the golden orb out from between them and sat up, already the people in leathers were rushing over.

Why was his hand wet?

He looked down and pulled his hand away from the dark haired boy's back, his palm was slick and sticky with blood. Wha- When had he gotten injured?!

"Harry! Are you okay!" the red head who'd flagged them down cried as he dropped down beside them.

"I'm fine, Charlie. Just a little shook up," the dark haired boy, Harry, admitted, squinting up at the red head before pulling a face, "Damn, lost my glasses," he complained.

"What the hell is going on?" Hayato had to ask, staring between the two of them in tired disbelief. They looked at him and he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "That was a fucking Dragon. You were flying against a fucking dragon for entertainment. What. The. Hell?" he demanded shortly.

"**LOOK AT THAT! WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT! OUR YOUNGEST CHAMPION IS QUICKEST TO GET HIS EGG AND NOT ONLY THAT MANAGING TO OUTFLY, OUTSMART, AND DEFEAT THE MOST VIOLENT OF ALL DRAGON BREEDS, THE HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL, WITH A FIRST YEAR LEVITATION CHARM – ALL WHILE CARRYING AN UNEXPECTED PASSENGER! WELL, THIS IS GOING TO SHORTEN THE ODDS ON MISTER POTTER INDEED!**"

Harry Potter shook his head, getting to his feet, he looked uncomfortable and not quite certain how to react to the noise of the crowd, all of which were screaming and applauding as if they were at some damn sporting event. He glanced over his shoulder and a smile cracked onto his face at the sight of three people hurrying over. Hayato frowned and glanced at them, only to find himself having to give them a second _long_ look.

The woman wasn't anything remarkable. In the latter reaches of middle aged, she wore black robes trimmed in green tartan, a pointed witches hat with thistle around the brim, and had black hair and glasses. Beside her though was a gnarled, grizzled, scarred, old man on a fucking peg-leg with a freakish glass eye that was whizzing in every direction of its own volition. And behind them, his face positively streaming with tears and snot, armed with a yellow and white checkered handkerchief, was a giant. Three times taller than Harry and five times wider possessing a thick bushy mane of wiry black hair and a beard that wouldn't have looked out of place on a Russian woodsman.

The woman seemed to be forcing herself not to throw her arms around the dark haired boy as Hayato got to his feet, hauling the egg – it was an egg, what the hell were they trying to pull? – up with him under one arm.

"That was excellent, Potter!" the woman exclaimed before she gestured at them to follow her. Her hands were shaking. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score... Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already..." the woman explained as she pointed to the arena exit.

"Yeh did it, Harry!" the giant man sobbed hoarsely, sounding so happy and relieved that any concern for his fierce appearance vanished. Apparently this one was the definition of a (soggy) oatmeal cookie. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' –" he babbled, only to be cut off by the dark haired boy who was now grinning widely and a little manically, trying to desperately cover something up.

"Thanks Hagrid!" he said loudly.

"Nice and easy does the trick, Potter," peg-leg growled out before affixing a glare onto Hayato who bristled defensively under the judgemental stare.

Harry grabbed his arm and began to pull him towards the exit before anyone could say anything about his being there. The dark haired boy glanced at him over his shoulder with vivid green eyes that couldn't quite seem to focus on his face, he really must have been blind without those glasses.

"Sorry about Moody. You won't find anyone who's more paranoid around than him," he explained as they approached the medical tent, "Um... Just... who are you? How did you even get here?" he asked warily, as he pushed aside the tent flap to go in.

Hayato never had a chance to answer because a split second after the tent-flap was disturbed, a female voice was splitting the air.

"Dragons!" she snarled in disgust, a hand reaching out from within the tent and pulling the green eyed boy inside.

"Ah! Madam Pomfrey!" Harry yelped, grabbing Hayato's arm and tugging him in as well. "I'm fine! Check him first!" he yelped, practically shoving the Storm Guardian at the stern dark haired woman wearing an old hospital matron's dress, hat, and a blindingly stark white apron.

She sniffed dismissively, eyeing him suspiciously before flicking her wand at him, "He's perfectly fine," she reported coolly, "Old injuries a plenty, you've had a violent past. Your stomach lining is delicate, but nothing I can deal with right now. Potter, sit!" she commanded the dark haired boy, pointing at a near-by stool. Meekly, the other boy shuffled over and hopped up into it. Hayato smirked a little and got a grimace in return.

"Last year Dementors, this year Dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next?" the matron hissed darkly as she picked at the dark haired boy's shirt, "This is deeper than I anticipated. Hold still," she commanded, producing her own wand and flicking it.

Harry squawked as his shirt vanished, thin arms immediately wrapping around himself self-consciously as his face turned bright red.

Damn, he was _tiny_. And thin. Painfully thin.

Hayato's eyes narrowed at the various scars that littered his body, big and small. Then there was the way his ribs were starkly, painfully visible, his stomach mildly concave, even his forearms were flat and thin and pale. He could see every vertebrae on his back, even with the sick copper gleam of blood rubbed across white skin. Then he got a good look at his back and hissed in sympathetic pain.

Two huge gouges across the shoulders and middle of his back. One was large, about a foot, going from just above the right shoulderblade to about six inches beneath the left, it was deep too, sluggishly pouring blood. The other one was smaller, about six inches long and a little more shallow, but still pretty deep. About three inches below the other one so right at the small of his back.

"_Tergio_," the matron incanted, flicking her wand. In that instant, all the blood and filth seemed to syphon off the tears in his back, revealing the torn punctured split flesh in all of its ragged ugly glory. She clucked unhappily at the sight of it. "This will hurt, Potter. The wound is too filthy for me to just seal it shut and with the broken edges the scarring will be extensive," she warned him.

"I don't care about scars, Ma'am," Harry admitted awkwardly, shivering and rubbing his thin upperarms, hunched over on his stool.

"I know you don't," the matron said, her voice softening, and her expression pained where the boy couldn't see it. Hayato was getting the feeling that this wasn't the first time the boy had come under her care with extensive injuries, there was just that _look_ about her face, the one that Shamal sometimes had when he got too deep in his cups and someone mentioned the Vongola. He liked to think Hayato didn't know, but he did, how could he not? Enrico Vongola, the Noveno's oldest son and the leading candidate for the position of Decimo, had been his sister's Sky. Both Bianchi and Shamal had once been Guardians to a Sky. But Romeo, the Sun Guardian, his sister's boyfriend, that lay-about playboy traitor, had gotten Enrico killed in a gun fight. His sister forcefed him her Poison Cooking, and Shamal made sure to destroy his immune system. He died slowly, and painfully, for killing their Sky.

The woman bustled to a small wooden cabinet to one side and took a bottle, it was blue and filled with an odd sludgy liquid. "Now, this _will_ hurt, a great deal, Mister Potter. And I am sorry for that. However, as I doubt you're aware, Horntails often use their tails to spear their own food, amongst other things. Much like a lion's claws, they become filthy and often times, wounds caused by them will become infected and gangrenous in short order. It certainly doesn't help that the latent magical energy present in them makes such wounds difficult to close using magic. This potion will burn the filth and remains of that magic out of the wound, allowing me to close it properly. You won't suffer any mobility problems, but you may have to deal with some back pain in cold conditions. Understand?" she explained as she applied the potion, which now that he could see it was vivid emerald green, to a cloth.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry responded.

"Good. You may want to grit your teeth. I'll be as quick as I possibly can," she promised before laying the cloth against his back.

He gasped, before his whole body tensed and curled over with a gritted whine. Hayato flinched.

How the hell had the kid even gotten injured in the first place? He was fine when Hayato appeared. None of the fire got even close and – wait, that moment, when he was trying to get behind him. The dark haired boy had practically flattened him against the broom, covering him with his body.

Had that been when – had he really tried to protect him with his own body?

An odd feeling filled him.

Only Juudaime had ever done that for him.

Saving his life despite not even knowing a damn thing about him, just that he, Hayato, was putting his, Tsuna's, life in danger.

And now this kid does the same thing, shielding him from a dragon, instead of his own dynamite. And unlike Juudaime, getting hurt in the process to protect him _using his own __body_. And then, when medical help was _right there_, shoving Hayato forward first to get checked, _just in case_.

A hard lump settled in his throat, making it difficult to breathe as he set the egg down on a side table and marched forward, crouching down in front of the kid and grabbing his hands. Hands that were causing himself harm as he dug his nails into the thin flesh of his arms.

"Hey, listen, you need to breathe, okay? Pay attention to my voice. I need you to breathe in, deeply, there. Hold it. Hold it. And now breathe out slowly. All the way. Good. In again. Hold it. Yeah, you can squeeze my hands if you need to," he said, keeping his voice gentle, the same voice he used when handling Uri at her most distressed. He didn't do this gentle thing often, but he could if he had to. He didn't notice, or care, about the approving glance the Matron shot him as she dabbed the green potion onto the slashes.

"Done," the Matron announced, pulling her hands away. "Now, let that sit in the open air for a while. I'll be back in a few minutes to close the wound. Can I trust you to keep an eye on him?" she asked sternly, pinning Hayato in place with a _Look_. The very same look he had seen on Reborn's face once or twice.

He found himself nodding almost without thought.

Sniffing, the woman nodded briskly to him and corked the potion bottle and bustled out of the tent, Hayato could hear her moving next door and heard her say, "How does it feel now, Diggory?". So, Harry wasn't the only one facing a dragon, and he wasn't the only one who had been hurt. What the hell was going on in this place? Why were they throwing _kids_ against dragons?

But Hayato stayed where he was, the dark haired boy doing his best to crush his hands but, really, he just didn't have the strength. He continued to breathe as Hayato had told him to though, which was good.

Just then, the tent flap opened, and two people burst in. A brown haired girl with wide fearful brown eyes, and a red headed boy with a face full of freckles, freckles that stood out starkly on his white, almost grey, skin.

The girl took a step forward, and then visibly restrained herself, Hayato noticed her eyes were puffy and red rimmed, there were fingernail marks on her face as well, from where she had been clutching it in fear. "Harry, you were brilliant!" she squeaked, her voice shaking almost as hard as she was. "You were amazing! You really were!"

But when Harry opened his eyes, it wasn't her he looked at, it was the red headed boy. Whom he still recognised despite his eyes being unable to focus on him properly. Friends then, Hayato concluded.

Red swallowed, "Harry," he said very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet – I – I reckon they're trying to do you in!" he managed to choke out.

Wait, he wasn't in this thing willingly?

"Caught on, have you?" Harry asked tightly, his voice cold, Hayato could feel his hands shaking. "Took you long enough," he snapped before grunting a little in pain and turning away from the red head who looked uncertain and hurt and scared all at once. "You're not supposed to do that, Ron. Not you..." he managed to gasp out, his voice high with pain as he shook under the effects of the potion, his eyes squeezing shut.

Red flinched, "Harry..."

"You were the one who rescued me from the Dursleys during Second Year. You went with me to the Chamber of Secrets. You went with me to see Aragog even though you were terrified of spiders. You helped me save Hermione from that Troll. You're not... you're not supposed to _turn_ on me like them," he said miserably, his voice breaking in the painfully silent tent. Even Diggory and the matron in the next tent over had gone quiet, likely as not listening in. "You're my bestfriend, ever since that first day on the train in First Year. You stood between me and a murderer on a broken leg last year, what happened?! What did I do between then and now that made you hate me so much that you wouldn't even listen to me? ...You _know_ me. They _don't_. I don't care what they say, because the don't _know_ me, and you would believe me, but... you _didn't_. What happened, Ron? What did I do wrong?" he choked, gasping against the pain in his back. "You... Everyone _else_ does this. They love me one minute and hate me the next whenever someone says something, and they _never_ bother to hear what I have to say, or how I feel, or whether or not it's even true! You're not supposed to _do_ that! You're better than them! You're my friend! You were my friend! You... you're supposed to believe me..." he whispered.

Hayato squeezed his hands and glared at the miserable looking red head.

"Out. Now," he commanded, glaring at the smaller boy who jerked, staring at him in shock.

"You can't - "

"I can and I will!" he snarled, giving the boy's hands another squeeze before getting to his feet. "In case you haven't noticed, his back's been flayed open and you're certainly not helping, so get out! Now! Before I throw you out head first!" he barked, looming over the red head who took a startled step back, clearly not used to being the shorter one given his height over the other two.

He didn't dare look at the girl who was staring at them with wide, wet brown eyes, unsure of whether or not she should step between them or let it happen. Hmph, clearly she was friends with them both and this little worm had put her in the middle of this entire fight, what a shit excuse for a friend! Not only turning on someone without hearing their side of it, but putting someone else in the middle. It was like looking into a mirror of his worst qualities as a teenager before Juudaime sorted him out, and he fucking _hated_ reminders!

The glint of promised, and growing, violence in his eyes had the red head retreating backwards a few steps, his blue eyes glancing beseechingly at Harry who was hunched over, shaking as he tried to swallow back the pain coming from his still open back. And then he left, receiving no help from anyone within the tent.

Hayato looked sharply at the girl who trembled a little but shook her head, no, she wasn't going to leave.

He sniffed grumpily and marched back to Harry.

"Who... are you?" the girl asked warily, looking as if she wanted to get between him and her friend but unsure if she could manage it, or even if that was what her friend wanted.

He gave her a look, "Hayato Gokudera, and you?" he asked, trying to at least remain polite. He had grown up a lot from the angry at the world brat who would sooner cram dynamite up that red head's nose than let him leave unharmed for turning on his friend like that.

"H-Hermione Granger," she said.

Hayato blinked, "Hermione, as in, Shakespeare Hermione?" he asked curiously.

She gaped, "You know Shakespeare?" she spluttered.

He frowned, "Who doesn't?" he asked.

"Most everyone you're ever going to meet at this school," she admitted, "With the exception of muggleborns and muggle-raised like Harry and I," she added gesturing to the dark haired boy.

Hayato blinked, "Muggleborn? What's that?"

The look on her face did not bode well.

_**000**_

**And done! /dies.**

**Ten pages. Never again. I will never again write something so long.**

**Also, I need to put this down: **The concept of Shamal, Bianchi, and Romeo being former Guardians to Noveno's sons belongs to Reighost. Including that Romeo was responsible for getting him killed.


	2. What?

_**000**_

**Storming Skies**

_It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament_. Gokudera/Harry.

_**000**_

**Chapter Two  
What**

_**000**_

Harry felt awful, not just physically, but... y'know, inside. Emotionally.

He hadn't meant to say those things to Ron, he'd never wanted to say those things to Ron. He had every intention of taking those bitter, hurt thoughts and feelings with him to the grave, never letting his friend – ex-friend – know just how much he had actually _hurt_ Harry by doing what he did and turning away from him, after _everything_ they had been through. But the pain, once he got talking, it was like verbal diarrhoea. His mouth kept moving and saying things and his brain couldn't censor it because it was too busy trying to handle the throbbing _burning_ waves of agony coming from his back.

Then he finally got the name of the boy he rescued, Hayato Gokudera. Sounded foreign. He wondered what country he was from and whether or not it was nice, and dragon-free.

"Muggleborn? What's that?" the older boy asked.

Harry groaned, a muggle? Really? For fucks' sake, as if this day couldn't _get_ any wor- no, better not finish that sentence, those words were cursed. If he said them, it really would.

"I – well... Harry?" Hermione squeaked.

He flopped a hand, "Tell him. He may have some latent magic or he wouldn't have been able to see Hogwarts, never mind puff right into my damn lap," he managed to grit out. If not, well, there were always memory charms and it wasn't like the poor Roberts family at the Quidditch Cup, it would be one charm, the afternoon gone, and a pop back to where he had been before, no harm done. Make him think he got royally slaughtered during a drinking contest, there had been a faint whiff of alcohol about him, not to mention funky smoke – drugs maybe?

Hermione fumbled, "Right, okay. Um, where to begin...? Basically, muggle means non-magical. Very demeaning, I know. Basically, there's currently two societies in the world, the non-magical one you're familiar with, and the magical one which runs parallel but hidden from yours. Has been for thousands of years. It used to be that we would do our magic publicly, either as figures of good or evil, depending on the individual. But for some reason that's been lost to history, either through censorship or just because people never thought to write it down, the magicals hid away from the rest of the world and set up laws with harsh punishments for anyone who revealed the existence of magic to a non-magical," the bushy haired girl explained, falling into a lecture mode he recalled from one of his old tutors back under his father. "Without magic, the muggle world was forced to adapt and revolutionise, while the magical world got as far as the Dark Ages and began to stagnate for reasons unknown, but more likely than not, highly politically motivated. Right now, the magical world is... semi-segregated, and exceptionally racist. Those who can trace their magic back hundreds of years and generations are called Purebloods and they stand at the top of the food-chain regardless of their actual skills or knowledge. Inbreeding is very common amongst Purebloods so if you meet someone who... doesn't seem to be, very intelligent or perceptive... well, be kind. They can't help it. Often times Purebloods will marry their first cousins in order to retain pure bloodlines."

"Euurgh!" Hayato couldn't stop himself from making a sound of disgust.

Hermione nodded seriously, "Yes. I don't think they understand genetics or the dangers of inbreeding. It wouldn't surprise me if they didn't. They tend to reject everything even remotely non-magical with a great deal of effort and zeal, never mind how it could actually help them."

"But, surely they _noticed_ that inbreeding causes birth-defects, sometimes even severe health and mental disabilities!" the silver haired boy exclaimed in disbelief.

"They don't care. As long as the child has magic, they don't care. It happens, sometimes, in families that have thickened their blood so much that a child is just... born without. They're a Squib. That's what they call a non-magical born to magical parents. I'm the opposite, a muggleborn. Neither of my parents have magic. They're actually dentists, and... well, my mum was terrified when she found out about magic. She was nervous around me to begin with but when magic came into the picture – we don't speak much anymore. _Anyway_! Because I'm born to two non-magical parents, I have 'dirty' blood. I'm at the bottom of the foodchain so to speak. Then you have Half-bloods, like Harry who are born to one magical Pureblood parent and either a muggle or a muggleborn. Sometimes they're raised in the magical world, sometimes in the muggle one. It depends."

Hayato looked at him, "And you were raised in the... muggle world?" he asked hesitantly.

Harry nodded, "Yeah. I didn't find out about magic until Hagrid delivered my letter. My Aunt and Uncle knew but... they don't like magic much. They tried really hard to hide it from me. We even ran away to some miserable little shack on the coast to outrun the letters. It didn't much help when Hagrid showed up personally to deliver it on my birthday. He even bent my Uncle rifle into a pretzel." That was a good memory, he grinned a little against the now thankfully fading pain.

"Hagrid... delivered your letter?" Hermione asked, bewildered.

Harry nodded, and the girl didn't say anything anymore, her lips pressed together thoughtfully and disapprovingly.

Any further conversation was halted as Madam Pomfrey bustled back in. She was quick and methodical as she syphoned off the potion and the last of the blood before healing up the wound in short order, leaving two thick ropey scars across his back. A fresh shirt was conjured for him and Hayato picked up the golden egg as the three of them left the tent, Hermione going a mile a minute about the other competitors.

"You were the best, you know, Harry. The fastest of everyone. Cedric did a basic inanimate to animate transfiguration on a large chunk of basalt. He sent a Labrador off to distract his dragon so he could sneak around and get into the nest from behind while her attention was diverted. It was a fairly nice bit of transfiguration, though he didn't quite manage it properly as the dog couldn't bark. About halfway through she must have caught his scent because she changed her mind and went for him instead. He got horribly burned up the side of his face and arm, he only just managed to dodge behind some rocks. The Beauxbatons girl used some very advanced vocal charms, you don't see that very often in England! I know the Scandinavians still have a very healthy music based magic system, but they use a lot of weather manipulations that need vocal intonations and this one seemed to be more Healing based. Using vocal vibrations to trigger areas in the brain to induce sleep. Well, it worked! Very clever. But it snored and set her skirt on fire, poor thing. She put it out quickly enough but the Durmstrang boys and several of the upper-year Hogwarts boys were all shouting at her for doing it, demanding to see her underwear. It was awful, Harry. And Krum, oooh it was horrible! Charlie was cursing to high heaven when it happened, I've never seen him look so angry. He used a Conjunctivitis curse, which is really very painful for dragons. The poor thing went wild, thrashing everywhere, she destroyed half of her eggs and was utterly despondent when the tamers managed to calm her down enough to cancel the curse. They don't think she'll make the return trip to Romania due to depression!"

Harry shook his head sadly as they reached the edge of the enclosure, that was too bad. He knew how much Charlie loved dragons and while he may not have been feeling very charitable toward the creatures right now, it was still an awful thing to happen. They were brought here against their will, along with their children, and then hurt, for entertainment. To find out you'd accidentally killed them, yeah, that would be heartbreaking, even for an animal.

"It's marks out of ten from each one," Hermione explained as they came to a stop, looking up at a large set of seats draped in gold with a table in front of them. Five judges. Crouch, Bagman, and the three heads. "Points are taken off for wasting of time, poor spell use, harming the dragon or the eggs, harming the audience, and getting hurt," she explained further.

Hayato looked at her, "Did the task end when he got the egg?" he asked curiously.

She nodded, "I think so."

"Then your back injury shouldn't count," he concluded firmly before turning to glare forcefully at the judges as the _giant_ woman raised her wand into the air, she hesitated a moment before a long silver ribbon shot out of her wand, twisting itself into a large ten.

Hermione screeched and flung her arms around him, "You're the first one she's awarded a ten to Harry!" the bushy haired girl exclaimed in his ear, bouncing up and down.

He spluttered, spitting her hair out of his mouth as he staggered under her enthusiasm "Th-that's great, Hermione!"

Thankfully it _did_ seem as if his injury after grabbing the egg was being ignored.

Mister Crouch came next and a large number nine snaked up into the sky prompting boos from the crowds of students onlooking.

"I guess he didn't like the fact you used your Quidditch skills instead of wand skills," Hermione observed. It was common knowledge that Mister Crouch loathed the sport and only put up with it because Bagman was insufferable and easier to just let have his way than fight against him. Plus, he needed the popularity vote if he wanted to make another try for Minister of Magic – Harry would personally throw every bit of influence he may or may not possess as the Boy Who Lived against it, he hated the man, the asshole responsible for throwing Sirius in Azkaban without trial.

Dumbledore followed Madam Maxime's example and sent a ten into the air, prompting another strangling hug from Hermione and a backslap of appreciation from the silver haired boy – whose name he had embarrassingly forgotten already. Harry could barely hear anything over the screaming cheers of the crowd which reached an even louder note when Ludo Bagman sent a _third_ ten into the sky.

The boos and jeers, calls of bias and cheating, that erupted when Karkaroff sent up a reluctant gleaming five into the air with a yellow toothed sneer of malice in his direction near enough shook the stands.

"_Five_!? You biased, cheating, repugnant waste of air!" Hermione screeched, even her hair frizzing up in outrage along with the rest of the crowd at the blatant point docking.

Harry hummed, he didn't like it, but what did he care about points, he survived. That was all he aimed to do in this tournament. He didn't care about winning.

"Hermione, calm down. He could give zero for all I care. I just want to survive this damn thing," he told her firmly, "C'mon. We'd better head to Professor Dumbledore's office before everyone leaves the stadium and we can't move for love nor money," he suggested, giving the arena a quick glance and frowning when he realised his Firebolt wasn't there.

"Harry!" It was Charlie, with a very familiar broom in hand, "You're in first place. Four points ahead of Krum," he explained before handing over the firebolt, a glint of longing in his brown eyes as he let it go. Oh yeah, Charlie was a Seeker too. "Listen, I've got to run, I've got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened – but that was unbelievable. I've never seen broom manoeuvring like that, especially with a passenger. You two have balls. Oh yeah – and they told me to tell you, you've got to hang around for a few more minutes. Bagman wants a word, back in the Champions' tent," he explained.

Harry nodded, "Okay, and please, don't tell her _everything_. She'd go mental!"

Charlie laughed, "No can do. If _I_ don't tell her the whole truth, she'll be after me with the carpet beater again! No thanks. I'd sell Ginny out before I took that horrid old thing to the buttocks again! Later Harry!" he called, already moving off as another tamer shouted about how they were having trouble reigniting the Horntail's second stomach.

Sighing, the trio headed towards the Champions' tent.

"We'll wait outside," Hermione assured him with a smile as Harry handed over his firebolt to her.

Inside the tent the other Champions were in silence, Fleur looking shaken and thin lipped as she held herself defensively in the corner, Krum was more hunched over and surly than before, if Harry could think anything, he looked _guilty_, and not far away, one side of Cedric's face slathered with a thick orange paste which, he could only guess, was mending the nasty burns he received from the Swedish Short-Snout. A Dragon he recalled from his research to be one of the more dangerous breeds, mainly because its flame was the hottest of all the recorded European breeds – able to reduce timber and bone to ash in _seconds_. Not to mention it was apparently a _very_ agile flier. Given what had happened during his task, having a second person significantly taller and somewhat heavier than him, drop into his lap, he was mildly thankful for the somewhat more ungainly Hungarian Horntail. They would have most assuredly died if they'd been up against a Swedish Short-Snout, or a Peruvian Vipertooth.

If he had to guess, Harry got maybe... ten feet away from the silver haired boy and Hermione outside, _just_ reaching Cedric's side, the Hufflepuff grinning appreciatively at him, an odd look in his eye.

"Good one, Harry," he praised by means of greeting.

"And you," the Gryffindor returned taking one more step before there was a bang of displaced air and smoke and suddenly he was looking at a silver necklace with a garnet eyed skull.

"_Nani?_" It was the boy (whose name he still couldn't remember), looking bewildered and angry as he held Harry's golden egg and looked around at the other Champions.

"Oh, goodness! Mister Potter, I'm afraid your friend will have to wait outside with your lady friend. Champions only, I hope you understand," Ludo Bagman blustered as he bounced into the tent and faltered at the sight of the strange boy who had, quite literally, popped out of no where during the First Task and landed on the youngest Champion. Not only forcing him to protect the stranger while collecting the golden egg and then outflying a dragon – he had certainly placed his bets in the right place.

"I-I did," Harry spluttered in disbelief, taking a step backwards from the silver haired boy who scratched his head with a free hand, "He just... popped back," he admitted bewildered, "Did you..."

The other shook his head, "No. I was talking with your friend about the Tournament when," he made an aggressive wordless gesture at the surroundings, looking both pissed off, stressed, and so done with this shit he had just stopped trying to understand what the fuck was going on.

Bagman hm'ed and haw'ed, "Never the less young man, please vacate the tent. I am terribly sorry but, private Champion business here," he continued and with a grumpy huff, the boy left.

Bagman smiled radiantly at them as the tent flap fell down behind him, clapping his hands together he said, "Well done, _all_ of you! Now, just a quick few _words_?"

There was another loud bang and a vexed and confused silver haired boy was yet again right in front of Harry, and he found himself staring at that same skull-necklace in confusion before pulling back a little, looking up at the bristling foreigner.

"You didn't - "

"NO I FUCKING DIDN'T!" he snarled loudly making Harry recoil and lift his hands up placatingly.

"Okay, okay, just... we'll figure this out later. Mister Bagman, please continue, I don't think my friend will be a problem, but it seems like he can't actually be very far away before popping back," Harry explained, fighting hard to keep his voice level and not freak out. Dumbledore would sort this out, no need to panic, you were fine, this... person, wasn't going to attack him. He'd been really very nice in the medical tent, he was just stressed and scared and angry because he didn't know magic and this strange thing that _neither_ of them liked or wanted kept happening. It was okay, perfectly understandable to get upset.

Bagman pursed his lips but nodded unhappily, "Very well, Mister Potter. Now, as I was saying, a few quick words before I let you all away again. You'll have a nice long break before the Second Task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth – but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you retrieved during the First Task, you'll see that they open. See the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg – because it will tell you what the Second Task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!" he exclaimed at the lack of reaction or expression from the various teenagers in front of him, Diggory and Krum already hefting their eggs and eyeing the hinges thoughtfully.

Harry nodded in thanks before he left the tent, the silver haired boy following close behind, and eventually meeting up with Hermione who looked harried as they made their way back to the castle.

"Professor McGonagall stopped by while you were with the Champions. She wants the both of you to head up to the Headmaster's office immediately," the brown haired girl told them as they moved past a beady eyed Rita Skeeter who, thankfully, let them pass unmolested.

_**000**_

He had to be dreaming, this was a huge dream/nightmare, and he was stoned out of his mind, Reborn added rhododendron leaves to Haru's stupid ritual and now they were all hallucinating and tripping balls and the little troll was laughing himself sick.

"Careful! That's a trick step, it'll suck you down to the thigh if you step on it," the green eyed boy warned him, somehow still managing to successfully navigate the chaotic hallways without glasses in a place where _everything_ moved, the staircases, the suits of armour (one of them in full on Knight's Armour saluted to him as he passed by, that was creepy), even the portraits and tapestries – they even fucking spoke!

"BLAGGARD! COME FACE ME LIKE A MAN!" a little painted Knight roared as he chased them on his chubby pony.

"Sorry, Sir Cadogan, but we need to see the headmaster," the green eyed boy said, making a prayer motion toward the portrait of the hyperactive knight who was brandishing his sword at them. "Maybe another time."

Hayato's head was spinning as he was hastily dragged away. He _had_ to freak out the first time one of them spoke and punch it. And it _had_ to be the most hyperactive, tenacious, _annoying_ one of the lot. It was like a Lambo he couldn't physically truss up like a handbag and gag with duct-tape because _it was a __painting_. The little Knight, Sir Cadogan, had taken deep offence to Hayato's kneejerk violent reaction and had been chasing them for _three floors_, screaming challenges and slurs against Hayato's name, honour, and steed. Given how he didn't have a horse, he had to suppress the wild urge to laugh hysterically, possibly until he started crying and had to sit on the floor and get control of himself. Because even with _all_ of the crazy-ass shit, the time travel, the end of the world, the... the _zombie_ Arcobaleno, he had at least been with Juudaime and Reborn, and the Baseball idiot, Lawn Head, the dumbass Cow, fuck, even Cavallone or that Kufufu-ing bastard.

Right now, he was alone.

"Don't worry," his guide suddenly said, breaking through his thoughts as he guided them down a secret passageway hidden behind a tapestry. "Professor Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of the current age, he'll figure out a way to send you home, so..." he trailed off and looked back at Hayato, it was almost unreal how green his eyes were. That colour was so freakishly close to pure Lightning Flame that he would have put money on that being the boy's Dying Will. "Don't look so sad. Try to think of this as a Holiday, or something," he suggested awkwardly before the back of his neck went a little pink and he hurried on. "We're not very far away now," he announced as they stepped out into a unusually narrow corridor panelled with wood.

The Storm Guardian followed along close behind, Miss Granger had already split away from them, offering to take both the egg and his broom back to Gryffindor Tower – where ever that was.

"It's a long way to get to, because you have to go to the seventh floor and then back down to the second in order to get to the right corridor," Harry explained when the silence started to get a little too uncomfortable, "The headmaster's office is in the south tower, and the only entrance is through the second floor, though sometimes it changes, last year it was on the third floor. I just hope the gargoyle'll let us in without a password, or we may be stood outside guessing sweets for half an hour."

"Sweets?" Hayato questioned.

"Yup. I've only been up there a few times, but Professor Dumbledore really likes sweets and always sets the password to a new kind of chewing gum or chocolate every time. Just don't be surprised if he offers you a sherbet-lemon, or a lemon-drop. Apparently he's been doing that for almost a decade," the dark haired boy warned him with an awkward smile. Hayato nodded, at least he was trying to set him at ease as they finally came to a stop in front of a looming gargoyle positioned in front of a blank wall. "The headmaster sent for us?" Harry offered hopefully.

"I know," the Gargoyle _spoke_, before stepping aside, dragging the wall along with it revealing an alcove with a set of hidden stairs.

"Thank you," the shorter boy said before ducking in, Hayato quickly following suit with a muttered thanks. After all the magic, he was entirely unprepared for the moving staircase – thankfully his guide had quick reflexes and caught his arm before he completely made a fool of himself by falling down. They went up the revolving staircase in silence until they reached a large, heavy oak door with an eagle-headed knocker.

"Come in!" an elderly voice called before they even touched it.

Harry shook his head and pushed the door, holding it open for the other boy to follow after. Professor Dumbledore's office hadn't changed overly much, bookshelves occupied almost every wall save one which was plastered with portrait frames of prior headmasters and mistresses, all of which were awake and eyeing them with ill-concealed interest. The spindly legged tables covered with puffing chiming and chirping machines was still present, and Fawkes sang from his perch, immediately taking wing and swooping to Harry's shoulder with a trill.

Stroking the magnificent bird, he eyed their reception committee with trepidation.

Headmaster Dumbledore, Professors McGonagall, Moody, and Snape, Madam Pomfrey, Misters Bagman and Crouch, and Percy Weasley were all present and eyeing the two of them like bugs under a microscope.

"Welcome gentlemen, please, take a seat. Lemon-drop?" Dumbledore offered, smiling kindly as he extended a wicker basket of yellow sweets towards the two of them

"No thank you," Harry refused while the older boy just curtly shook his head, practically throwing himself into his seat like a delinquent knowing he's about to suffer an interrogation from people who have already made up their minds about his wrong-doing.

The headmaster set the basket back on his desk and smiled benignly down at the pair, "Well, let's get the pleasantries out of the way before we get down to the nitty gritty, shall we? I am Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, please allow me to introduce my colleagues, Deputy-Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Slytherin House, Professor Severus Snape, Retired Dark Wizard catcher and our current Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Alastor Moody. You've already had the pleasure of meeting our school nurse, Madam Poppy Pomfrey. We are the school staff here at Hogwarts. Over here we have Mister Ludo Bagman, head of the Magical Games and Sports department at the Ministry of Magic, Mister Barty Crouch, head of the International Magical Cooperation Division, also of the Ministry, and young Mister Percy Weasley, his junior under-secretary," the wizened old headmaster introduced, gesturing to each of those in the room and allowing Hayato to memories names and faces and places in the Government. Given how he was dealing with Department Heads, he was beginning to guess that he was in a slight bit more trouble than he anticipated, but not as much as he feared. There was only one retired 'Dark Wizard catcher' – which he could only assume meant police officer.

"And of course, you have met young Mister Potter here," the headmaster added as an after thought, gesturing to the green eyed boy who guided him there. Harry gave him a crooked, nervous smile where he was sat in the huge arm-chair, the fiery bird perched on his knee demanding scritches. He tried not to dwell on the fact that it was a Phoenix, and that it was giving off the same feeling as a Box Weapon but cleaner. A creature made entirely out of Dying Will Flame, _naturally_. Made out of Sky and Sun respectively, it shouldn't have been possible without scientific interference, but here it was, and seemingly he was the only one who thought it was amazing. Maybe magic was some kind of mutation on the Dying Will Flame?

"Enough pleasantries, Albus," peg-leg growled, "Who the hell are you and what are you planning, eh? Dropping in all convenient like on Potter and then expecting us to believe that yeh can't go more'n a spittin' distance away from 'im?" he snarled, stumping forward grumpily, his northern accent getting noticeably thicker.

"Oh for heavens' sake, Alastor!" the nurse barked, "Don't jump down the boy's throat without giving him a chance to explain himself! Sit down you paranoid old coot and let the boy speak!" she ordered sharply, watching with gimlet eyes as the man subsided in an almost bewildered manner back into his seat.

Hayato, who had bristled violently at the accusations, relaxed somewhat, his fingers still itching desperately for a cigarette, or a stick of dynamite. He'd take either of them right about now. A cigarette to calm his nerves, and a stick of dynamite to cram up that asshole's half-missing nose. Make him more symmetrical, take a chunk out of the other side of his face. From the corner of his eye, he saw the red headed Under-secretary set up a piece of parchment and a quill on a table, muttering quietly to it and tapping it with his wand, the quill stood straight and scribbled a few lines of its own volition before going still, poised on its tip. Some kind of medieval magical dictation device?

"Let's start with your name, my boy, and move from there, shall we?" the headmaster prompted kindly.

He shifted, it was kind of like being confronted with a less intimidating Noveno, he was powerful, you could _feel_ it in the air, but it wasn't violent or threatening, and it was certainly less blood-stained than the Ninth Head of the Vongola. If this man had actually ever killed someone, Hayato would be very surprised. His power had none of that copper tang he was used to from mafioso.

"M'name's Hayato Gokudera," he grunted, "Storm Guardian to the Tenth generation of the Vongola family's Head," he added, because everyone else seemed to be putting forward their fancy positions and it would help them to view him as someone more responsible than they were no doubt thinking.

"And just who is this Vongola and what is a Storm Guardian?" peg-leg pounced on him yet again.

"Alastor! Don't make me silence you!" the matron snapped. It was almost like watching a sitcom.

The headmaster nodded serenely, "Vongola, that's an Italian name. Yes, I have a recollection of young Madam Zabini's cousin working as a 'Guardian' for a gentleman of the Vongola family." Wait, what? Hayato's head snapped to him in shock, Zabini... that wasn't a name he knew, but then again, it wouldn't be surprising if someone changed their name upon joining up (Every one of the Ninth's Guardians had a name that was to do with a dessert or a sweet, he sincerely doubted they just so happened to be coincidentally born with those names, more than one of them had to have changed it for some reason – same with CEDEF who all had names related to herbs). The question remained, was this old guy for real, or was he bullshitting for some reason? "That's quite a well respected position if my memory serves me correctly."

Hayato nodded, unable to stop himself from preening a little. He had worked hard to try and be worthy of Juudaime's trust and confidence and while he knew he failed sometimes, he was much more confident _now_ than he had been back then that he was doing a good job. Even the echo of G he sometimes felt in his Gear would hum in approval occasionally, which was the highest praise he could ever conceive getting unless it came from the Primo himself!

"Were you born in Italy?" the headmaster asked.

"Yeah."

"And your parents?" Mister Dumbledore prompted, again very nicely and very impossible to refuse. If he were being pushy or demanding, Hayato could quite cheerfully snap and snarl and threaten to take the man's head off and not lose a wink of sleep. But he was just being so damn polite, understanding that it was a hard situation, knowing he wouldn't want to answer the questions, but asking anyway because it might help them understand the situation. At least, that was the optimistic side of him talking. The less optimistic side was strongly reminded of Miss Granger's earlier words, about how these people only thought well of those from magical backgrounds. Were they asking about his parents to find out whether or not they had magic? And since this geezer recognised the Vongola, did that mean he knew other mafia Famiglias? Would he kick Hayato out if he knew? He decided to play it safe.

"Ma's name was Lavina Bonaccord," he explained and saw a spark of recognition in the headmaster's eyes as he sat up just a little bit straighter, he wasn't the only one either as both Mister Crouch and his Under-secretary did the same, the latter in shock, the former in disbelief. His mother had never actually _gone_ by that name, but he'd found it on some of her old paperwork, apparently she had been disowned from the Bonaccord family for something or other – probably for having him. But Lavina Gokudera, as she had taken her mother's maiden Japanese name, was a known figure in social circles as someone who'd been involved with the mafia, it had _ruined_ her pianist career because no one was willing to hire a woman involved with the criminal underworld. "She died a while back. I haven't spoken to the old man in almost a decade and I don't plan to either. He and I aren't on speaking terms," he continued as if he hadn't noticed their sudden shift in attention.

The headmaster nodded genially, "Very well. Down to the dirty, shall we? Can you tell us what your purpose here is, Mister Gokudera?" he asked, lacing his fingers together on top of the desk.

Hayato scoffed, "I don't have one. I don't even know how I fucking got here," he stated.

"Language, Mister Gokudera!" the tartan dressed witch snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. "If you would keep a civil tongue in your mouth, young man, it would be appreciated," she told him sternly, her lips thinning dangerously, telling him in no uncertain terms that it was _not_ a request.

He scoffed dismissively.

"Could you tell us what happened then, perhaps we can piece together what is going on and what brought you to Mister Potter," the headmaster suggested while Hayato huffed.

"It was a friend's birthday. The damn harpy-wom –" he cut himself off with a growl, "One of the girls had set up a party game. She knows I like anything to do with aliens or the occult so I got interested, but then she pissed me off and it just went downhill from there. I did the damn game and the next thing I know I'm turning around to leave and falling through open sky half way around the world," he explained gruffly, studiously _not_ mentioning that he had been goaded into taking part in a dumbass schoolgirl _love_ ritual.

Peg-leg growled, "And we're supposed to believe this? Potter's got people from left and right trying to kill him and then _you_ mysteriously pop up out of no-where with a story like that? Snape, bring out the Veritaserum you were so keen on threatening the Sixth years with last week, eh?" he demanded, looking to the Head of Slytherin House who was lurking to one side with fathomless dark eyes. He, more than anyone else in this room, set Hayato on edge.

"Now, calm down Alastor. We're getting to the bottom of this, I assure you," the headmaster interrupted, waving down both men before turning his attention back to the silver haired Storm Guardian with a knowing glint in his eye and the beginnings of a smile at the edges of his lips. Fuck shit, did he know?! "Would you be so kind as to describe this game for us, my boy?" he asked thoughtfully.

Hayato felt the tips of his ears burn and knew that he had probably turned red with embarrassment as he tried to think back. "There was... a few lines of seasalt and crushed shell in a circle. A metal washing up bowl with a bunch of candles inside it, mostly scented vanilla and strawberry. Three, no four bowls, one with seasalt, the others with basil, sage, and mallowsweet. She said that... You had to list the things you liked in a person and burn the leaves in the candles to make smoke. The smoke would go to the one who had the things you listed. But she'd been pissing me off all night so I... kind of lost my temper, threw the whole lot in, salt and bowls while shouting at her."

There was a moment of silence in the room, and then Bagman started to laugh.

He laughed so hard he had to clutch the near-by table in order to stay upright as he cackled. The school nurse ignored him and quickly started flicking her wand over the two of them, mumbling spells and frowning at whatever the lights she conjured out of them meant. Hayato rubbed his face, he had a very sinking sensation that these people knew _exactly_ what kind of ritual he had performed with that girl's insistence, and his tiptoe-ing around the actual words just made it all the more hilarious and humiliating.

The matron sighed, "I can confirm it, Albus. The ritual took," she explained as with a final flick of her wand, a red shimmer flickered to life from Hayato's hand, he jerked it away from his face with a squawk of alarm as he realised the shimmer was... connected like a cord to the other boy, Harry, who was staring at his hand in confusion and distress.

"So wait, he does a ritual and somehow we're bound together? How does that work? What does it mean?!" the younger boy demanded, looking at all the adults. Instantly wiping the smiles off the faces of Percy Weasley, the headmaster, McGonagall, and Bagman.

Albus sighed, "Alas, another area where Hogwarts has failed you, my boy. Such rituals as this were removed from the curriculum many years ago because such happenings were fairly common, and very distressing for the parents of those involved. Many Purebloods were exceptionally upset when their daughters would end up tying themselves to their true-loves, marrying and often becoming pregnant at a young age, breaking all manner of arrangements and alliances.

"The ritual young Mister Gokudera has taken part in was very popular during the pre-Roman era amidst the Painted Tribes. It was a simple little thing but it required a certain... emotional investment to truly be effective. In laymans terms, my boy, it was a love ritual designed to find a life-partner. When invoked, both parties subject to said ritual are bound together for a year and a day, unable to go further than the cord which you can currently see thanks to Madam Pomfrey's excellent Charm work, in order to test their compatibility.

"Typically, the ritual would be useless if invoked by a muggle. However..." he trailed off and looked at Hayato who blinked in confusion, "Your mother, Lady Bonaccord, comes from a very old and respected Pureblood line. Yes, it was quite a scandal when the last daughter of the family was born without magic, her parents cast her out almost immediately to make a living on the streets. I doubt... that the ritual would have worked had you not retained some of her magical heritage, however diminished."

Hayato goggled.

"You're actually telling me the ritual worked?" he spluttered.

The headmaster chuckled, his eyes twinkling like Lawn Head when presented with new boxing equipment, "Indeed my boy. As you can see, it worked very well." He gestured to the red cord that was still visible between himself and the smaller boy who was staring at it in confusion.

Wait so... the ritual worked... It worked and it brought him to... to _him..._

Jade green eyes widened and snapped to the younger boy's face, _this_ was the person he requested in the ritual?!

He made a strangled sound of confusion, awe, shock, horror, delight, it was hard to tell, but it sounded a little like Uri that one time Tsuna picked her up and enfolded her into a huge tight hug before letting her escape. He jerked a thumb at the green eyed boy and looked in desperate askance at the headmaster, mouth working open and shut in mute disbelief.

The headmaster laughed and nodded.

"Th-that can't – no one can be that - " he spluttered in disbelief. No one could be everything that he asked for. He had asked for the perfect person, people like that just didn't exist beyond Juudaime.

"Oh, Mister Potter will surprise you with just what he's capable of," the Deputy Headmistress muttered ominously, sounding torn between amused and traumatised in that same way he'd heard Juudaime speak about Hibari and Mukurou's fights, torn between admiration and horror.

"I-I don't understand," the younger boy finally choked out plaintively, "You said this was a love ritual, right? But we're both _guys_. Is that even possible?" he asked, distressed and confused, unable to see the subtle shifts in everyone's facial expressions because all he could see were blurry flesh-coloured smudges.

Hayato bristled a little in disappointment and hurt, maybe he should have specified open minded as well, "Got a problem with that?" he flared aggressively. The kid just looked confused though.

"But – I've never even heard of it before. I thought – Uncle Vernon always said that - " he trailed off, shaking his head in abject bewilderment. Not disgust, just... confusion.

Hayato leaned back, inexplicably relieved as much as he was equally confused. How old was this guy? He was definitely younger than he was, but even he'd heard of gays and homosexuality by the time he was eight and running away from home. Then he remembered the comments from earlier about how his family had gone to some extreme lengths to hide magic away from him, hide something he was a part of away from him and managed it successfully until the giant from earlier came in and tied a rifle into a knot in order to give him his letter. With that in mind... It wasn't too difficult to conceive that they may have managed to shelter him from the very idea of homosexuality.

"Never mind, Uncle Vernon's a liar. Sorry." The boy shook his head and looked up at the blur he identified as his headmaster, "Is there any way of breaking the ritual? I don't think it would be very safe for him to be here given the Tournament if we can't go any further than what this allows. Never mind he probably has family and friends who are worried sick right now," he pointed out reasonably, waving his red shimmering hand.

"Ahh, that is the problem, my boy. The colour of the cord indicates the strength of the bond. I'm afraid, until November twenty fifth next year, you're stuck together."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the twinkling old man, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he seethed as Fawkes trilled on his knee. Damnit, even the Phoenix was laughing at him!

Dumbledore positively _sparkled_, "Indeed, my boy. Indeed!"

_**000**_

**And that's chapter two done. Yes, I made Gokudera's mother a Squib from a pretty BAMF Pureblood family. Did you know that her ancestor was the ****first**** Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot? That's why Dumbledore and Crouch and Percy recognised the name but not McGonagall, Snape, or Bagman. And since Lavina would be... not far off Barty Crouch jr's age, he would be largely unaware of that drama.**

Also, please note, I did a dumb in the last chapter: My wife is REIGHOST. Not Reisghost. That's my autocorrect kicking me in the butthole. I'm so sorry honey!


	3. Awkward

_**000**_

**Storming Skies**

_It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament_. Gokudera/Harry.

_**000**_

**Chapter Three  
Awkward**

_**000**_

"Now," the headmaster beamed at them, "If there are no more concerns -" he began only to be cut off by Snape who, for the first time that day, stepped up to speak.

"Just because we know the boy comes from an old line, and has performed this so called 'ritual', does not mean he is of particularly trust-worthy character," he sneered silkily, eyeing the two teenagers with great dislike. From the corner of his eye, he could see Harry bristle defensively in his chair, muttering something scornful under his breath that was pointedly ignored by the hook-nosed professor.

The headmaster nodded seriously, "You are quite right, Severus. The sins and virtues of our fathers and mothers are not our own, we must judge each other by his or her own merits," he agreed sagely as he got to his feet, "I have just the thing."

Hayato scowled darkly at the hook-nosed Professor, coming to the conclusion almost immediately that they most definitely would not be getting along. After all, if Harry really was the kind of person he had requested in his wish then Hayato could definitely trust his opinion on other people. If Harry didn't like this person, then it was only reasonable to assume that he wouldn't.

"What's this, what? Albus, surely it can't be that time of year just yet!" another voice piped up, sounding hoarse, tired, and more than a little vexed. "I haven't even finished my song!"

"Just a short matter, my dear Sorting Hat, a mere trifle of an incident," the aged headmaster explained turning around and presenting a rather battered old hat that for some reason had his... and he couldn't believe it was happening or that he could even legitimately think this about someone he'd met less than twenty four hours ago, had his _Soul-Mate_ relax.

"I hardly think - " Snape began only to be waved off.

"None of that, Severus. Hat is quite adept at reading minds, it is only the privacy enchantments that Salazar and Helga cast that prevent him from speaking on what he has seen within the minds of the _students_. As young Mister Gokudera here is not a student, there is no such problem," the headmaster explained as he rounded the desk. "This way, the privacy of his mind is retained and we may be assured of the truth."

The hat was casually hooked onto his head, and it hadn't even been there for a second before it started screeching.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The headmaster laughed, "As pleased as that makes me, Hat, we aren't sorting a new student, I am afraid."

The hat grumped, "Then why did you wake me – oh, I see. You wish to make sure the lad isn't a threat to Mister Potter. Well, you shall have no concern from this one on that front. Mister Potter has won his undying loyalty for his earlier heroism."

The headmaster clapped his hands like a child, "Oh, how lovely. Yes, thank you very much, Hat."

"Yes, fine, lovely, put me back on my shelf would you? I'm sleepy," the bossy hat blustered, shifting around on Hayato's head of its own accord. A quick glance at Harry as the hat was whisked away showed him staring down determinedly at his knees with large eyes, mouthing the words '_Undying Loyalty?_' with his cheeks stained vivid scarlet all the way up to the tips of his ears, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Just like the Juudaime – but with less squealing. And flailing.

He was hit with a sudden painful pang of homesickness and worry. "I'll need to contact my boss as soon as possible, and tell my sister I'm okay. She was at the party when I disappeared. And..." He gestured down at himself with a grimace, "I'll need some stuff."

The headmaster nodded, "Of course, of course, we will make arrangements for a trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow so that you may get some supplies and contact your friends. But for now, I believe Gryffindor Tower are throwing you quite the congratulations party, Mister Potter, it would be a tragedy to miss it."

And with that, the two of them were dismissed before Hayato could ask at all about how he was to _pay_ for any of this, what time he was expected to show up in order to go to this Diagon Alley and would there be any phone-booths or internet cafés he could use to Skype the Vongola.

He grumbled, swearing unhappily as they got to the bottom of the revolving staircase.

"Uhm... I'm really sorry about this," Harry suddenly spoke up awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "The bond thing. It's going to be pretty dangerous tied to me right now so... I mean, the ritual had to have gone wrong somewhere. I don't think it would have tied us together when all I would do is put you in danger, what with this tournament," he explained guiltily, shuffling his feet.

Hayato stared at him with wide eyes, his mouth opening a little in disbelief. Legitimately touched in a way that he hadn't felt since Juudaime told him that he didn't want an _Underling_, that he wanted a _Friend_. And he wanted Hayato to be that friend. He thought it was his fault and was apologising to him because of what Hayato had done and he had been the one selfishly complaining in his head about how inconvenient it was and how far away from Juudaime he was and -

Harry frowned determinedly, "I don't know what the next task is, or how dangerous it'll be. But, I'll do my best to make sure you don't get hurt even if I can't stop you from being involved," he promised firmly.

It was too much. That was too much.

"_TESORO!_" he wailed, literally lunging across the corridor, getting a brief glimpse of Harry's eyes widening in alarm before he ploughed into the smaller boy, whisking him up into the biggest, tightest, strongest hug he had ever given anyone in his life.

Harry, however, had frozen in shock and not a little horror at the sudden and quite frighteningly _explosive_ outpouring of enthusiasm and affection from the older boy who was suddenly crushing him against his body and – rubbing his cheek against his head?

The Storm Guardian smiled blissfully, holding his Soul Mate close. He was blessed, he really was, he had asked the Gods for this wonderful amazing person and they had literally dropped him into his lap and he had protected him and was still trying to protect him and - "I'll – I'll protect you forever, _Tesoro_! I won't let this tournament harm even a hair on your head!" he gushed passionately, an image of those scars, scars he gained protecting _him_ flashing up behind his eyes.

Harry spluttered, "Ah-Buh – But that's – you don't have any magic! Please! I can handle myself! I don't want anyone getting hurt trying to protect me!" he exclaimed, squirming in the other boy's grasp.

"Never the less!" the Storm Guardian proclaimed firmly, adjusting his grip to hold the boy by his face, cupping both cheeks tenderly and meeting his eyes intently, "I'll protect you with my Dying Will!" he promised.

Harry turned white and quickly looked away, pushing Hayato's hands back towards him, "Don't say that. Just... Too many people have died already because of me, just... Don't." He hurried away, head down and refusing to look at him, "I don't need any more guilt. Come on. Hermione'll be wondering where we are."

Hayato panicked, realising that the other boy had _completely_ misinterpreted his meaning – and really, with a terminology like 'Dying Will' he wasn't surprised that someone outside of the Mafia would be alarmed at such a declaration.

"No wait! I didn't mean it as in Dying-Dead!" he exclaimed, rushing over and practically tackling the smaller, half blind boy into another hug, "I didn't mean dying as in dead!" he repeated desperately, looking around quickly before dragging him into the nearest empty classroom. "I'll prove it!"

Harry quickly found himself sat on a desk before he had even conceived what had happened, his eyes were literally spinning in confusion and shock.

Was Gokudera _always_ this hectic, he wondered?

"Okay, okay, maybe a demonstration would be best, err, _**Uri!**_" he called, an odd red light igniting around him.

Harry jerked backwards as the scarlet light suddenly flashed throughout the room and a... cat? Was left behind in its wake, he couldn't see it very clearly without his glasses. It was a tiny cream coloured thing with golden coloured leopard print spots up her back, at the tip of her tail and paws, with large bell-shaped ears, and... scarlet fire... coming out of her ears. And that wasn't even getting into the sunglasses, or bandoleer, or bracelets that she was wearing either. There was an odd symbol and some writing on it but he couldn't read it at this distance, all it looked like were metallic smudges on her. The cat yawned widely, showing off tiny pointed kitten teeth, and blinking lazily up at them with large ruby red eyes that didn't _look_ like they had a pupil.

"This is Uri, my battle partner, she's only a baby right now but she's plenty powerful," Hayato explained as he knelt down in order to pick her up – apparently, Miss Uri was not having any of it. She hissed irritably and immediately set to shredding her master's hand with both claws and teeth. Harry hissed in sympathetic pain as the older boy yelled in pain and surprise as his hand was scratched to all hell. Damn, he hadn't seen damage like that since Crookshanks jumped on Ron's head at the pet shop in Third Year – right before Hermione bought him. "Sh-she can be difficult, at times," Hayato managed to choke out as he carefully cradled his bleeding left hand. "I didn't think to train her properly, didn't really have time." Harry watched him shoot a glower at the feline as she delicately hopped onto the desk next to him but there was definitely an element of fondness in there. He got the impression that even if the opportunity presented itself, he wouldn't take it.

Harry nodded hesitantly, "And the... fire coming out of her ears? That's natural, right, it's not hurting her, is it?" he asked worriedly. Apart from Fawkes he'd never met another animal seemingly made out of an element save an Ashwinder, but he knew that if you took them out of the flame they were born in they died within the hour, same with Salamanders.

Hayato rapidly shook his head as Uri eyed the wizard thoughtfully, "No, she's – okay," he stopped himself and quickly made for the blackboard. Harry watched as he went hunting for a stick of chalk and froze a little, looking down when he saw the flame-eared feline with one paw on his thigh, looking up at him warily.

He glanced over at Hayato before back down at the feline. Well, manners never hurt, and it definitely won him points with Hedwig, Crookshanks and Buckbeak, Fawkes too, "Hello little Lady," he greeted softly slowly reaching out and holding a hand to her, a few inches back, letting her have the option to come and investigate if she wanted to. "Aren't you beautiful," he muttered, she really was, despite her... peculiarities, she was a very pretty cat.

The ruby eyed feline purred loudly in approval, immediately moving into his lap and sniffing at his fingers before digging her cheek into his nails, tail flicking this way and that. Harry smiled a little, surprised that she was being so affectionate with him when she had been so vicious to her partner. Then again, he had called her beautiful, all girls liked it when you called them beautiful, Hedwig especially. He gently rubbed her cheeks and under her chin, his free hand coming around to gently stroke her from behind the head down her back, scritching a little when he reached her hind-quarters. The purring doubled in volume and she shifted into a more comfortable position, her eyes lidding in pleasure.

"There!"

Harry twitched, jerking his head up to the blackboard and staring at the odd diagrams that were messily scribbled across it, an odd wheel of six sections with a circle in the middle, all of them holding a different symbol, a set of wings and what looked like dummies, and a – bullet?

Hayato seemed to be fiddling a little awkwardly with his chalk, "Uri is a box weapon comprised of a unique high-density energy created and refined from one's own life-force. Due to the way this energy resonates with one's emotions, it can be regarded as a type of battle aura, or more closely as a manifestation of willpower and resolve. More commonly known as a Dying Will because the most common instance of awakening said high-density energy is upon the line between life and death when you are forced to eek just that little bit more determination and resolve to survive out than before," he rambled rapidly pointing to a pair of diagrams of a person with a flame in their belly and nothing happening, and then that flame engulfing them in the next picture with some kind of hole in their chest. "Each Dying Will flame comprises of a certain level of purity indicating how strongly the individual feels, high purity flame, the most destructive and brightest of the Dying Will Flames are an unyielding force of nature in of themselves. Only those who can wield the highest purity of flame can manipulate their Dying Will without the use of Box Weapons like Uri, or Rings made of a special mineral able to channel it.

"There are two polarities and seven flames within both. Flames of the Sky are more commonly known due to historical events involving these pacifiers here. In the Sky Flame Polarity, you have Storm, Rain, Sun, Lightning, Cloud, Mist, and Sky Flames itself. Each have their own destructive properties and colour-resonations. You can generally tell what flame a person has by their personality," he explained pointing to each of the segments in his odd wheel. "Flames of the Earth Polarity have only recently been discovered and thus far only one family have been recorded to have them. Their abilities are largely unknown. Thus far Gravity, Glacier, Forest, Desert, Mountain, Swamp, and River have been recorded, each with their own highly destructive abilities manipulated through rings.

"I'm the Storm Guardian to the Vongola's Tenth Generation Head, that means I'm the strongest Storm Flame user of that family. I'm the boss's Right Hand Man, I handle a lot of the logistics he doesn't have time for and with the exception of the Cloud Guardian, and Juudaime himself, I'm the strongest combatant of the Tenth Gen." Hayato set down his stick of chalk and placed both hands on the green eyed boy's shoulders, his vaguely blurry features oddly serious and making him feel very small and uncertain all of a sudden. "The hat thing said it best, Tesoro, you have my _undying_ loyalty. I will fight with my Dying Will, every ounce of my resolve, to protect you, and come back to you," he swore solemnly.

Harry's eyes widened feeling the bottom of his stomach twist abruptly, how, why -

Hayato smiled warmly, hands gently trailing up to cup the boy's cheeks once again, leaning down to -

"GYAAAAAAH! URI!" he roared, throwing himself backwards as his Box Weapon promptly latched onto his face with a furious yowl, claws working like a piston and tearing into his flesh.

"Holy shit!" Harry yelped, jumping to his feet and quickly scooping the flailing feline up and away from the older boy, "Are you okay?" he asked, horrified at the blood pouring down his face as Uri hissed possessively from his arms.

"...Medic..."

_**000**_

Harry sighed as twenty minutes later they finally reached Gryffindor Tower. After using the few minor healing charms he knew to close up the claw marks on his face and hands, Harry had been forced to sit back in shock as the silver haired boy lunged after his cat, the two of them tearing across and around the classroom, upending tables and chairs and somehow getting into the rafters.

Harry could only blink and sit in what was pretty much the eye of the storm until Uri deemed enough of the game and jumped into his lap, purring as Harry's arms reflexively came up to support her weight before she was forced to dig those little scalpels she called claws into his skin. Hayato glowering at them from where he had plonked himself down on the floor opposite, twitching a little as Uri purred and nuzzled into Harry's chest. After that, it wasn't difficult to herd the two of them up to Gryffindor Tower, though Hayato seemed particularly insistent on erasing what had been on the board before they did so. Harry tried not to twitch every time the silver haired boy shot his cat a glare on the way back to the tower either, but it was very hard not to when he had such a murderous look on his face. Eventually though, Uri seemed to get bored of prompting his ire and disappeared once again in a flare of scarlet light.

Just before going in, Harry paused, "Ahhh, be prepared for a lot of people, noise and questions, Gokudera - "

"Hayato, please. Call me Hayato," he requested firmly, having to fight back the urge to brush his hand across the other's cheek.

He nodded, "Alright, Hayato, like I said, be prepared. And don't eat anything a pair of red headed twins give you. They're real pranksters and anything could happen from turning purple, to spouting boils in the shape of a penis on your head, or even turning into a canary," he warned.

"Canary?" the Storm Guardian spluttered in excited disbelief.

Harry nodded, "Canary Creams. One of their most recent inventions. They think I don't know," he explained, "C'mon. You can ask when when we get inside."

Sure enough, as soon as the Fat Lady moved aside and they entered the Gryffindor common room it _exploded_ with cheers and yells, not unlike the arena where Harry had faced the dragon. The tables had been pushed to one side of the room and were positively heaving with mountains of cakes and crisps and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface. Someone, Lee Jordan most likely, had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks so the air was thick with multi-coloured stars and sparks; and Dean had put his artistic talents to good use in the scant few hours since the Task to put up some new banners. Most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail's head on his firebolt with Hayato in his lap, though a few of them showed Cedric with his head on fire.

The Storm Guardian had to fight the urge to take a step back as a tidal wave of people surged forward towards them, all of them smiling and cheering, hands reaching out to whisk his soul-mate away. Harry caught his wrist and pulled him close so that they wouldn't get separated in the crowd – he seemed to know almost everyone as they pressed in around them, answering shouted questions easily, his hand firm and warm and reassuring on Hayato's wrist. A balm to his frazzled nerves as girls pressed in around him giggling and a rain of hands slapped at his back with boisterous approval. The human tidal wave heaved and the two of them finally were expelled to a less populated area seemingly controlled by a group of red heads, he spotted the twins easily enough, the boy from the tent – Ron – and a girl who had to have been their younger sister, and the odd one out, the brunette Miss Granger with them.

"What did the headmaster say?" the bushy haired girl asked immediately, not even giving them a chance to speak before pouncing, her eyes wide with concern.

"Blimy Hermione, give the guys a chance to have a sit down, will ya!" one of the twins exclaimed playfully draping an arm around her shoulder.

"But- "

A second twin materialised between the two new arrivals armed with a pair of flagons filled with a frothy pale yellow-tan drink that looked a little like a banana and butterscotch milkshake, "Let them have a drink before springing the Spanish Inquisition on them!" he chastised playfully, handing over the flagons. Hayato being forced to stomp down his urge to snatch Harry's hand back as the green eyed boy let him go in order to take the drink – he had to take this _slowly_. If he had learned one thing from Juudaime, it was that he couldn't just jump the poor boy and smother him with affection, he had to build up to that. He could only thank Uri for interrupting him earlier in her typical less-than-gentle manner, if he had managed to land that kiss at this point... he would have just driven Harry off.

Harry eyed it suspiciously and gave the twins a look, "You haven't – "

"Our sweet ickle Harrykins, do you doubt our honour, integrity, and intentions?" the twin draped over the girl gasped in hurt.

"Every time I talk to you. What have you done to the drinks?" he asked with a grin.

"Nothing."

"The lovely Miss Granger-"

"Very lovely she is."

"Indeed brother-mine. The lovely Miss Granger-"

"Very lovely."

"-Wouldn't let us," finished the twin stood between Harry and Hayato with a mournful expression.

"They should be perfectly fine," the girl in question informed them with a huff.

Hayato eyed the drink sceptically, "What is it?" he asked.

"Butterbeer, it doesn't have much in the way of alcohol so they're allowed to sell it to minors. Try it, it's really nice when warm or cold," Harry explained before sipping at his own drink.

Hayato hummed, he wasn't really a fan of overly sweetened drinks and something with the name 'Butter'beer was somewhat foreboding. He took a sip and pulled a face, very sweet, too sweet for his palate.

Harry laughed at the expression he pulled, "Too sweet?" he asked. Hayato nodded guiltily. "Well, there's Pumpkin juice as well. Bit of a weird flavour but you get used to it. It's not _as_ sweet, but it's still pretty sweet," he explained setting his drink down – and pausing as Hermione held out her flagon.

"I haven't had any yet, been too busy worrying," she admitted sheepishly. "Here, try some."

After trying the pumpkin juice – which tasted surprisingly like pumpkin korroke without the panko crust or katsu sauce – Hayato fund himself being inundated with people and questions and food. It was a _party_. And while he was one of the older people in attendance, the twins being only a little older than him, he strangely felt so much older with all the unbridled childish enthusiasm around him. Homesickness hit like a punch in the gut as he watched the twins drag Harry into a headlock, ruffling his hair and generally tormenting him, sending the smaller boy squirming and yelping, Hermione laughing with that red headed girl as they drank from flagons and ate cake. He ended up having to retreat to the side, staring morosely at his drink.

"You okay?" Harry asked quietly, sitting down beside him as the twins left him to go and torment their younger brother.

"Mmm, yeah, I am now," the Storm Guardian told him with a smile as he shifted just a little closer.

_**000**_

**Chapter Three done! Not much happened but this was a good place to cut off. Don't always expect that the chapters will be as long as the previous ones.**

**Also, if any of you are concerned about if Gokudera is getting into this too quickly – we do remember how he and Tsuna met, right?**

**Five, maybe six sentences were exchanged, mostly boiling down to 'you're not good enough – hold still so I can kill you'. And then Hayato's declaring eternal loyalty and willing to die for Tsuna's approval. And that's without knowing anything about Tsuna beyond what his future job is and the fact that he saved Hayato despite his murderous rampage. **

**Harry just saved his life and got severely injured in the process. Harry who he was taken to after wishing for a Soul Mate, Harry who apparently embodies everything that Hayato wanted in a lover and partner. Harry who just saved his life and was betrayed by his bestfriend. **

You bet your ass Hayato is going to throw himself into this relationship head-fucking-first. **This is everything he's ever wanted all rolled up into one, INCLUDING MOTHERFUCKING MAGIC! ****MAGIC!**** We do remember how big of an Occult Dork this boy is, right? That he somehow knows exorcism chants that fucking worked on Mukurou! And tried to recite a prayer when Dino's Sponge Turtle fell in the mountain river and he stupidly thought it was the Spirit of the Mountain. Hayato is jumping into this – Harry however, is oblivious and has other things on his mind.**

**It isn't love, yet. Just remember that.**

Also, Hayato is seventeen. Kaoru's the oldest of the group (in this) and he was celebrating his 18th B-day when Hayato did the ritual.


	4. Reassurances

_**000**_

**Storming Skies**

_It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament_. Gokudera/Harry.

_**000**_

**Chapter Four  
Reassurances**

_**000**_

Never had he been so reluctant to get up before in his life, though in all honesty, he had always had a _reason_ to get up and leave his crummy little flat as soon as possible – Juudaime was waiting for him, there was school, his duties as his Boss's right hand, and a multitude of other things. There had never been anything in his flat to prompt his desire to remain when he could be out and with Juudaime.

But right now, after the party last night, he had gone upstairs along with Harry only to find that no extra bed had been laid out for him. Hayato had very nearly had a heart attack when it became apparent that Harry had every intention of letting him have the bed and just sleeping on the floor – he couldn't kick him out of his own damn bed! And trying to talk him out of it was an exercise in frustration not unlike trying to talk Hibari out of picking a fight. In the end, after getting a balled up pair of dirty socks thrown at them from Seamus, Hayato jut grabbed Harry by the wrist and dragged him into the bed with him.

Which lead to now.

Waking up feeling as though he should be late for school in a big way, but it still being the early hours of the morning, watching the sun rising and brightening up the room, staring up at the dull crimson hangings overhead. When he wasn't busy staring down at the boy sleeping against his chest.

Harry wasn't a restless sleeper like him, while Hayato was somewhat prone to tossing and turning and throwing his limbs out every which way, the smaller boy curled up and pressed against the closest source of warmth. In this case, Hayato himself. He hadn't dared do so while they were awake, lying stiff and awkward on the very lip of the four-poster bed, trying to take up as little room as possible. It was only after they'd both fallen asleep that he must have moved, because when Hayato woke up with the first rays of sunlight that he looked down and found the wizard curled up half on, half against him, fingers knotted in the fabric of his borrowed night-clothes.

He hadn't really gotten a chance to study the boy the previous day, too much was going on and there was too much emotional upheaval but here, now, in the quiet breathless moments between day and night when everything was still and warm and peaceful, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away. Shaggy black hair, unruly and slightly curly, he had pale skin dusted very faintly with freckles he had to be very close to see, long dark eyelashes hiding away those incredible green eyes that he had already fallen in love with, from the quiet conversations they had managed to snatch the previous evening, Hayato knew he was fourteen, but he was still tiny, smaller even than Juudaime had been at that age, barely hitting 5'0" and thin, worryingly thin. He felt fragile whenever Hayato wrapped his arms around him, like he would break if he hugged him too hard, and the sharpness of his cheekbones did not help set his mind to ease. Oh, his cheeks were hardly hallowed out – though it was a near thing, but in his professional, enlightened opinion, Harry had not been fed very well. He hadn't been taken care of, and that was unacceptable.

He had wished for someone intelligent, who was loyal and kind, who wouldn't stand aside when they saw injustice, someone who could tell him he was wrong but be reasonable about it and explain themselves. Someone who would have his back and trust him. Someone he could love and grow old with. He had wished for someone who could handle the mafia, and didn't care about his family, status, or money.

Well, he received that person. Now all he had to do was be _worthy_ of them.

Harry's face scrunched up, his nose wrinkling as he inhaled deeply, eyes slitting open blearily. He blinked once, twice, and then they slid up to Hayato's face, staring sightlessly for a moment before he blinked a third time and his eyes practically bugged out.

"GYAAH!"

_**000**_

It was a very grumpy, sleep rumpled group of fourth year Gryffindors who arrived at Breakfast that morning, Hayato smirking as he followed after a mortified Harry Potter who was doing his best to avoid the glowers of his housemates. None of them were particularly happy about being woken up so early in the morning.

"Well, bright side," Dean mumbled, "The good stuff is still here," he pointed out. Usually the Gryffindor boys arrived so late to breakfast on the weekends that the good food was usually all eaten and gone by the time they arrived. There were sleepy mutters and grunts of agreement as the boys slumped down in their usual seats and dragged bowls and foods over to them.

Hayato watched in amusement as the sleep rumpled boys went about their usual morning routines, though Ron's table manners were about as terrible as Bucking Horse's with his men on a long vacation. But thank all the gods there was _coffee_, oddly enough specifically within his arms reach, nowhere else on the table, not that he was complaining. A good cup of coffee was _the_ way to start the morning. And a cigarette, but he would have that once he'd eaten – he didn't want to ruin the flavour of the food after the cooks had gone to such an effort of making it.

"You guys are down earlier than usual," the twins' younger sister, Ginny, observed as she came over. The girl smiled hopefully at Harry as she sat down, hiking her robes up as she did so before smoothing them down as she sat. "Hey Harry, how'd you sleep?" she asked, casually flicking her long red hair over one shoulder.

Harry mumbled something sleepily around his toast barely even glancing her way as Uri climbed into his lap, little nose sniffing hopefully at his plate before climbing up onto the table properly as Hayato busied himself with his coffee and went in search of anything remotely familiar as either Italian or Japanese breakfast foods. He didn't find any, instead settled on some pastries. He didn't notice Uri manifesting herself.

Disappointed and a tad amused, but valiantly trying not to show it, Ginny instead turned her attention to the cat that had just climbed out of Harry's lap, "Oh? What a pretty kitty, is he yours?" she asked, looking at Harry even as she reached out to stroke the cream coloured feline sniffing at the bacon pan with increasing enthusiasm.

The explosion of scarlet light and yowling fury had _everyone_ in the Great Hall jerking and looking over at the Gryffindor table as Ginny Weasley shrieked in shock and pain as a cream coloured cat latched onto her face, clawing everything in reach.

"DAMNIT URI NO!"

The girl staggered back, one hand ending up on Neville's jam smeared toast as she tried to steady herself, even as the other tried to knock the cat away.

Slytherin table burst out into uproarious hilarity as Harry pried the feline off her face letting her escape to the floor, "Ginny, are you okay? Stop touching it, let me see," he ordered, gently prying her hands away from the bloody mess the feline had made of her face. "You should know better than to touch other people's pets, Ginny, not all of them are going to be friendly," he scolded her even as he used his wand to clean up the blood and heal the majority of the scratches. "Some of these are too deep, you should see Madam Pomfrey to get them closed up," he told her anxiously, grimacing as scarlet blood dribbled from the tears to stain his fingers as he tilted her face this way and that to get a better look at them.

Fred snickered, "Looking to make a full breakfast spread of your arm, little sister? You've put butter on your elbow, now jam on your hands, what will you put on next?" he teased as he came over, Ginny turned red under the blood-smears.

"Bacon?" George questioned, appearing at her other side.

"Toast?" Fred leered with a grin.

"Or the porridge?" they chorused before breaking into cackles.

Ginny was less amused and whipped out her wand bringing it –

"Misters Weasley! That will be quite enough!" Professor McGonagall barked, striding towards the group. "Five points from Gryffindor for teasing a fellow student, no I don't care if she is your sister and it's your brotherly duty. Behave yourselves!" she commanded sternly, shooing the boys off. "Off to the Hospital Wing with you, Miss Weasley, pip pip," she continued, eyeing the young girl coolly.

"Ma'am," Ginny muttered as she retreated from the hall.

"Are you and Mister Gokudera done with breakfast, Potter?" the Deputy Headmistress asked as she turned to her Lion.

"Err, I think so," Harry admitted before turning to the table. He looked over to where Hayato was chugging the last of his coffee and nodding at him before looking up at her, "It looks like it."

Professor McGonagall nodded, "Very well, in future, Mister Gokudera, it would be advisable if you left your cat upstairs in the dormitories, if she's going to be so disruptive in the mornings," she declared primly, nodding to the cream coloured kitten currently lying on her back on the now empty bacon dish, her little belly bulging out with the evidence of her gluttonous crime. Harry didn't bother wondering about how she was so nonplussed about the presence of the clearly non-standard feline. When the headmaster had a phoenix for a pet, one learned not to question odd looking animals appearing out of nowhere.

"_GYAAH! WHAT DID YOU JUST EAT!? SPIT IT OUT, DAMN CAT!_" the silver haired boy roared in a language none of them understood, pointing dramatically at his pet who just yawned widely at him as she rolled over and awkwardly heaved herself onto her paws. She flicked her tail smugly as she padded over to Harry and lay down in front of him, wallowing on her back and meowing for attention. Hayato seethed as Harry (after spelling his hands clean quickly) picked her up, holding her in one arm and rubbing her swollen belly with the other.

"Is she supposed to eat human food?" he asked curiously as the tiny cat started purring at three times the volume you would have expected from something so tiny.

Hayato gripped his hair, "No. I mean, she can, it won't hurt her. But if she does that means she won't go into stand-by mode and she'll be here for _hours_ now!" he groaned in despair. "And I can't leave her behind either, she'll destroy the place if I don't keep her in line."

Professor McGonagall smirked, "Well, she'll be sleeping for a while yet with the amount of bacon she's just eaten. Now, if you two will come with me? We have arranged for a Portkey to Diagon Alley in order to fetch you some supplies, Mister Gokudera. I can trust you to act as his guide, Mister Potter?" she asked, looking sternly down at the green eyed boy.

He nodded, "I'm sure we'll manage," he assured her as he continued to rub the kitten's tummy. He did spend several weeks alone, unsupervised in Diagon Alley with a mass murderer hunting for him at thirteen. He would be fine at fourteen without said murderer hunting for him in the same place for a few hours while shopping.

"Very well, this way gentlemen," the Deputy Headmistress commanded, marching briskly out of the Great Hall, the two following after with Harry pausing only briefly to give his housemates a quick wave goodbye as he did so.

It was probably a good thing that the two left then. Not even ten minutes after they had been whisked away by Professor McGonagall's Portkey, the Great Hall was filled with feathers and hooting as the morning post arrived, practically blotting out the enchanted sky with the sheer number of owls. Minerva sighed as she retook her seat, having already expected some manner of article regarding the events of the First Task. She heroically ignored the paper that had been delivered to her seat and took a fortifying drought of her morning tea and took a moment to steel herself for Rita Skeeter's usual brand of morning vitriol. Given the exclamations and gasps of shock and general overall low buzz throughout the Great Hall, it was one she would need to gird her loins in order to read, she must have gone to town on this particular edition.

Setting her cup down, the last thing she expected to see when she finally unfolded her paper and looked down was the blazing headlines of:

**HARRY POTTER: TRUE LOVE OR JUST TROUBLE?  
LAST OF THE BONACCORD DISCOVERED!  
PUREBLOODS: JUST HOW TO MUGGLEBORNS SEE US? ADVICE FROM ONE MUGGLEBORN TO ANOTHER REVEALED!  
JUST WHAT ARE LOVE RITUALS, AND HOW DO THEY WORK?  
THE FIRST TASK: BLATANT BIAS FROM THE JUDGES?  
VIKTOR KRUM: DRAGON MURDERER!**

_**000**_

Hayato staggered as the horrible device, the Portkey, finally stopped spinning. The place they landed in was a large, somewhat cluttered and grotty pub, filthy windows making the whole room darker and grittier than it would have ordinarily seemed, grotty dingy corners that hadn't seen a mop – probably since the place was built, and positively crammed with grubby black tables and spindly uncomfortable looking chairs. He twitched in wary anxiety as he looked around, this place was both a hitman's worst nightmare and biggest wet-dream. So many places to kill from, so many places someone else could kill them from.

"I hate Portkeys," Harry grunted from the floor, making Hayato look down in surprise as the wizard gingerly sat himself up with a grimace, Uri clinging to his chest, her ears folded back and her fur stood on end. She was silent and clearly distressed with the Portkey transportation. The Italian hastily pulled him up, and if he pulled a little harder than he strictly should have, Harry didn't notice, and Hayato got free hugs out of it as the wizard stumbled into him before being set back onto his feet properly.

"Where are we?" the Storm Guardian asked warily as Harry dusted himself off and then proceeded to lead them to a backroom and out into an alleyway at the back of the pub. It wasn't any nicer than the interior if he was perfectly honest. Nor even remotely magical. Just an alley. With some bins. And a faint perfume of wet cardboard.

"The Leaky Cauldron, it's in London at Charing Cross. It's hidden though, from people without magic," the Gryffindor explained as he tugged his wand out from a pocket and began to tap the bricks on the back wall in a certain pattern. "It's a gateway between muggle London..."

Hayato gaped as with a final tap of his wand, the bricks began to fold back on themselves, Harry stepping back along with them as a world of colour and light was suddenly opened to the silver haired boy. Narrow and brightly lit, the cobbled alleyway was positively crammed with shops and brightly coloured and moving signs and shop-windows with moving mannequins styling equipment and clothing and shops just beginning to open for the day. Men and women in various styles of robes, each in its own eyebleeding colour combinations and moving patterns, cats and owls moving freely up and down the street as they pleased.

"...And the magical world," Harry finished, grinning at the look of awe on his friend's face as he stroked Uri's distress away. "Welcome to Diagon Alley, the British magical community's foremost shopping district," he declared with a grand arm gesture and a playful bow – all the while cradling Uri to his chest.

Harry laughed as the older boy bounced in with all of the enthusiasm of Ron to the dinner table. He didn't think the silver haired boy hesitated even for a second before he was grabbing the Gryffindor's thin wrist and pulling him to the closest shop-front, shooting off questions at a mile a minute, asking him what each shop sold, why, what they did, who bought it and – the questions were never ending! If Harry hadn't been there when the Hat shouted 'Hufflepuff' he would have assumed the Italian was a shoe-in for Ravenclaw just from the endless questions he was inundated with regarding magic, magical devices, customs, potions, ingredients, creatures, clothing, baby supplies and just about anything and everything Diagon Alley had to offer.

Though, Harry couldn't help the small sting of guilt and embarrassment when he couldn't answer the majority of his questions, and saw the brief flicker of disappointment that would pull at his features for all of a heartbeat.

"Sorry, Hermione knows a lot more about all this stuff than me. Maybe when we get back, you could ask her?" he suggested awkwardly as they stood outside a magical junk shop.

Hayato flashed him a smile and slung an arm over his shoulder, pulling him close, "But I like hearing you explain it, Tesoro," he said earnestly, Uri meowing loudly as if in agreement as she slithered up and headbutted the dark haired boy's chin. "We can figure it out together, yeah?" he went on to suggest enthusiastically, nodding to Flourish and Blotts.

Harry stared in mute silence for a minute. He had never actually _tried_ to figure out the magical world. If he so much as attempted to pick up a book that wasn't homework orientated the night before said homework was due in, Ron would pitch a fit about his turning into Hermione. Which would upset her, she would snap at Ron in one breath and praise Harry in the next, which would upset Ron and suddenly Harry would be sat in the middle of _another_ epic Ron-Hermione argument with both his friends screaming at one another about how they were a bad influence on him. And as much as Harry loved Hermione, it was so hard to break the habit of a lifetime, to force himself not to stand out by emulating an average male student in his class – to hide from scrutiny regarding his home life from the teachers and still manage to appease the Dursleys by not doing better than Dudley. And then to avoid the adulation and expectations of superiority from the wizarding world by emulating Ron, preventing upset and jealousy from his bestfriend by being better than him, appeasing Hermione's superiority complex by never even attempting to challenge it... flying under the radar, keeping his head down and his hands clean.

Only, he had failed to do that. Rather spectacularly at that too.

Youngest Seeker, defeated a troll, fended off a unicorn killer, smuggled a dragon out of the country, ran the Third Floor Corridor Gauntlet and succeeded, faced Voldemort and rescued the Philosopher's Stone. And that was only in his first year. What point did he have to continue on this path anymore? He wasn't friends with Ron anymore (even if he kind of wished he was), Hermione didn't have that superiority complex anymore, people would expect greatness out of him regardless of his mediocre school results and all he did by refusing to study and work hard was make it easier for Voldemort to kill him. He would _ALREADY_ be dead if not for Hermione's intelligence. So would Ginny. So would Ron. So would a lot of other people because if not for her and her big brain figuring things out long before Harry, Voldemort would have come back by now. He had to work harder, learn more, get better. It wasn't fair to expect Hermione to do all the thinking for him. And... He didn't like being unable to tell Hayato what he wanted to know. He felt like an idiot.

A determined smile grew on his face as he made his decision, "Of course!" he agreed firmly. He would figure the magical world out along with Hayato, he would stop slacking just because it was what Ron was doing.

Hayato grinned and then paused, smile sliding off his face, "Err, just one question," he said, Harry's blurry green eyes blinking up at him in curiosity. "How am I going to afford all this? I don't have access to my savings."

The smaller of the two nodded, "I'll pay. Since it's my fault you're here, it's only fair," he said smiling as he ducked out from under the Storm Guardian's arm and pointed to the large snow white marble building at the end of the alleyway, "That's the Bank, Gringotts. We just have to make a stop there to get some money out of my vault and then we'll get going."

Hayato shook his head, stung but unable to really understand or explain why, "I can't let you pay for me, Tesoro!" he exclaimed. Every gentlemanly bone in his body rebelled against it – the same way it would have if a girl had tried to pay for him. Hence his bewilderment. Harry wasn't a girl. So why was he so bent out of shape about the Gryffindor paying for him? He didn't quite... was it because Harry was younger than him? Or because as the only one with an actual job he felt it was his responsibility to be the bread-winner in this relationship?

Harry sighed, opening his mouth to argue for a moment before shaking his head again, "We'll call it a loan then," he suggested, "I'll pay for everything you need, books, clothes, toiletries, the lot. And you pay me back when you have access to your money. Sound fair?" he asked – and then grunted as a speechless with gratitude Hayato flung his arms around the smaller boy (Uri leaping out of his arm and to the ground before Hayato crushed her in the middle) and hugged him tightly, picking the tiny wizard up in his arms and swinging him around with glee. He understood! He understood and found a solution that worked, that didn't offend his sensibilities and still allowed them to continue their day with minimal fuss and without screaming at him like that Harpy Woman would have!

"P-Put me down! I'm - " Harry stuttered before suddenly finding his feet on solid ground and groaning, dizzy as he leaned against the Italian, unable to see without his glasses and not liking the abruptness of the last few minutes. Hayato, never one to miss an opportunity, put a hand at the younger boy's waist in order to keep him steady and then guided him towards the large white building.

"I think our first stop once we have money is to get you some new glasses," he decided with a grin as Harry let him lead, hand on hip, to the bank, squinting up at the white building.

"Good idea," Harry muttered, "I hadn't actually thought about that."

_**000**_

By the time they had finished in Gringotts, the Alley was filling up with people as the two stepped out into the November sunshine (thankfully it was one of the rare sunny days that happened once in a blue moon during British November). For the most part, no one paid them much mind as Hayato lead the semi-blind boy to the opticians that was too blurry for him to make out with his poor vision. Several people did a double-take upon spotting them, especially since Hayato was holding the smaller boy's hand in order to lead him and not get lost in the crowd, but for the most part, grins and smiles and huffs were given and the two were left unmolested or accosted, much to Hayato's relief (Harry hadn't noticed).

The Opticians was tucked a little way off the main alley and had quite unimaginatively framed a few of the words in a giant pair of morphing glasses, shifting from various styles and colours in a way that was, no doubt, to try and gain attention from passing customers. Inside wasn't much better, it was cramped and cluttered and looked nothing like the opticians that Hayato was familiar with from, well, _anywhere_ in the world. This place looked more like an illustration of some ancient cluttered library with all of its sepia and brown toning. Not to mention that some of the glasses were hideous beyond compare.

The Italian was beginning to regret bringing Harry in here as he eyed the large silver and gold framed glasses in the shape of a ball with wings. The wings flapped as well. How someone was supposed to wear a set of flapping wings on their face he would never know but he was fast coming to the conclusion that most wizards (Harry excluded obviously), were a little crazy.

"Welcome to Octavian's Opticians!" a wheezy male voice proclaimed from the dim lighting somewhere between the towers of spectacles on display around them. The man was somewhat overweight and wore one of the most ridiculous eyepieces Hayato had ever seen, it looked like a set of jeweller's spectacles, but it had also been crossed with 3-d glasses, sunglasses, anything and everything, all manner of different lenses ready to be clicked in down the frames. Some made of different metals, some coloured, some even crystal. They magnified his eyes to about three times their natural size as he peered at them, his whispy hair had been blond once, it was more grey and white now, and his face bore the signs of a life well lived and loved. "What can I do for you gentlemen today?" he asked, rubbing his papery old hands together.

Hayato gestured, "Two sets of glasses for him, and one for me."

"Two sets?" the man echoed curiously, adjusting the monstrosity perched on his nose. How it hadn't fallen off his face, or left bruises from the sheer weight of that get up was quite frankly beyond his knowledge of physics.

"A pair and a spare. Just in case," he explained. That 'just in case' he had a feeling would be needed.

The old man nodded, "A fine plan. Well then, if you please gentlemen, take a seat and I'll examine your eyes," he requested, gesturing at a plain wooden stool at the back of the room. Harry went first, sitting himself down boldly on the stool and looking around as best he could with his blurry vision. Hayato would miss seeing those eyes unshielded, they were quite lovely, but Harry needed to see more than Hayato needed to see them.

The check up was only a little different from what Hayato had experienced in a regular opticians. The man checked Harry's eyes extensively but using that odd head contraption to examine his eyes in detail, muttering under his breath about this and that. Setting a pair of frames over the Gryffindor's eyes and then examining him again and either changing the glasses or tapping them with a wand, continuing to mutter. Whatever magical result he had been looking for apparently occurred and the man whisked the frames off the smaller boy with a nod.

"There we are young man, your lenses are perfect. Choose your frames and your extras. There is a list of enchantments we offer here at Octavian's on the counter, please peruse it at your leisure while I see to the young man," the man wheezed gesturing Hayato to take his place.

His check up was even shorter after he told the man he was long-sighted and just in need of reading glasses. Small print, especially when closer than two feet to his face, tended to move like ants on a white background. Very annoying. And blurry ants at that. Eventually though, the man ushered him off to choose his frames and enchantments and even though he was _burning_ with curiosity, the man seemed rather distracted and scatty, enough so that Hayato didn't want to disturb him and potentially damage Harry's glasses. He would need those – _not that Hayato didn't like guiding him!_ Oh no, he loved it! But, yeah, Harry would probably want to be able to see properly.

He wasn't happy to find Harry in the cheapest section sifting through awful frame after awful frame with a look of defeated dismay across his face.

He held up a plastic set of frames in the shape of orange wings, "I guess I could live with it... If I changed the colour," he was muttering as he squinted at them.

Hayato felt his blood run cold as he quickly strode forward and gently lifted them out of Harry's hands, only now, noticing for the first time, how tiny those hands were. Hell, he could probably fit both the Gryffindor's wrists in one of his hands, that wasn't good. He was too thin. Maybe he should have a word with the kitchens about getting Harry a specialised meal plan?

"Why are you here, looking at these awful frames, Tesoro?" he demanded shortly, taking those tiny hands and pulling the dark haired boy to a more acceptable section.

"T-They were the cheapest!" he protested and Hayato had to clamp down on his sigh. Of course, his true love had to be a spend-thrift. Well, no one was perfect, and as flaws went, being careful with money was hardly the worst. Hayato would just have to be there in order to ensure that Harry didn't wrong himself in trying to protect his wallet.

"Cheap doesn't always mean the best, Harry-ino," he explained gently, waving the orange winged frames with a look of utter revulsion on his face before he lazily flicked them back into the cheap section. "You're going to be wearing them until next year, possibly even longer if your prescription doesn't change." Harry tilted his head, confused. "I'm not letting you walk around in those hideous things. It would be an utter crime. You have the money to go a little further in your spending, do it. You don't have to break the bank, but there is a reasonable spendature cap," he pointed out dryly as he picked a set of black square frames from the rack and gently slid them onto Harry's face before gesturing to the mirror for him to peer at.

He had to bite down on his lip when Harry had to get very close in order to see, squinting at his reflection, nose wrinkling cutely.

In order to stop himself from snatching him up for another hug, Hayato quickly flitted through the towers of glasses and hunted for the most acceptable of the frames. There weren't very many to be perfectly honest. Wizards apparently had crap aesthetics as well as common sense.

He sighed in disgust as he returned to Harry-ino's side with the pitifully small collection of acceptable frames, all of them under a Galleon in price, but at least over three Sickles – the price area Harry had previously been fishing through was apparently the Bronze Knut Special Sale, everything under a Sickle.

"Here, they were the nicest I could find under a Galleon." He didn't mention that the majority that were over a Galleon were enchanted to do some crazy stuff and looked like something that had escaped out of the glam-rock phase.

In the process, he'd also found his frames, a pair of thin black rectangular frames not unlike his other set at home.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the two of them to eventually settle on a set of frames. Harry often spent too long paying attention to the price while Hayato would casually push aside any kind of frames he felt didn't suit his future husband's face well enough. He looked good with thick frames, but bad with rectangular frames, which left him with the oval, circular, winged, and half-moon spectacles. And, after much dismay over the price, ended up with the most expensive of the remaining, a pair of sleek thick framed oval glasses in black metal – faint gold coloured swirls were detailed on the ear-wings.

Hayato then asked Harry to read him the enchantment list, he couldn't make out the loopy characters well enough without a set of reading glasses to aid him. The reeled off list and brief explanations near enough made him explode with excitement at the possibilities.

"There are enchantments to _do_ that?!" he squeaked, wriggling excitedly.

Harry scratched his head, "I... guess so?" he muttered, squinting at the list again, "I would have expected Hermione to be all over this like a rash though. Maybe it's false advertising?" he murmured sceptically.

"Only one way to find out!" Hayato declared loudly and giddily as he grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him up to the counter where the elderly Optician was making idle notes on a sheet of parchment. "Hey, Ossan, these enchantments, are they all legit?" he asked brusquely.

The old man squinted at him through green and quartz crystal lenses, "Say what? What was that? Legit? What'sat mean?" the man wheezed.

"Legit. Legitimate. Truthful, honest, accepted, legal, possible, etcetera," Hayato listed still eyeing him with interest.

"Well, of course they are. Won't do me much good advertising things I can't do, now would it?" he returned, sound a mix between honestly bewildered, a tad indignant, and amused.

Hayato nodded, "In that case, we'll both be taking enchantments two, three, five, eleven, and eight," he listed briskly.

"Ah, no Light Reaction charms for me please," Harry interrupted as the man made several notes.

"Alright. That'd be: Three Impervious Charms, one Light Reaction Charm, three Unbreakable Charms, three Wind Reading Charms, and three controlled Sticking Charms. At five Knuts each with three Sickles for the Wind Reading Charms, that brings your total, with two sets of the Jupiter grade Frames, and one set of the Mars grade Frames to... lessee, carry the one... Three Galleons, two Sickles, and two Knuts. But since it's such a large purchase, I'll knock off those two Knuts for you," the man wheezed with an absent smile.

Harry was visibly unhappy at the expense, but Hayato quickly steamrolled over any protests by thanking the man and handing over the frames they had selected.

"Shan't take longer than a few minutes," the man wheezed as he started twitching his wand at the frames, Hayato watching with open mouthed fascination as the plain glass that had been in them before wriggled itself free from the frames and trotted off to one side and the new lenses snuggled into their place, bending and flexing like a living object as it fit itself to the frame-mould. They then started glowing as the man tapped them a few times, twisting his wand in complicated patterns over head before finally absently twirling his wand through the air and a few cases flying over to him. The new glasses picked _themselves_ up and trotted into the now open cases, only one set remaining out and quietly waiting. "There we go, young sirs," the Optician wheezed, handing them over and happily accepting the money that Harry reluctantly pushed over.

Hayato picked up the cases and pocketed them before turning to Harry with his new glasses and managing to slide them onto the bridge of his nose before the Gryffindor realised what was going on.

Big green eyes blinked up at him before widening even further, "Oh – that's... does _everyone_ see this clearly?" he gasped in shock, looking around the shop avidly as if seeing it for the first time.

Hayato frowned, "Surely your last set of glasses weren't too far off, were they?" he asked.

Harry shrugged, "Way off." He then squinted a little at Hayato and grinned, "You have freckles. I never noticed before now!" he said, looking pleased with himself.

"When was the last time you saw an Optician?" Hayato gaped in disbelief.

"Last time? Try never! Oh wow! I can't wait to see Hogwarts with these things!" the Gryffindor continued, heedless to Hayato's brain breaking quietly in the background with disbelief. Harry had been wearing glasses of the wrong prescription?! That could _really_ damage his eyes, not to mention give him terrible strain headaches! "C'mon! Let's get the rest of your stuff. Trunk shop next. Thank you very much, Mister Octavian," Harry called as he opened the door back onto the street.

Hayato shook himself out of his shock and quickly followed, mentally vowing to extensively study all of Harry's belongings to make sure they were of a proper quality for him. Or better yet, just get everything brand new today so that he wouldn't have any nasty surprises down the line.

_**000**_

**And finished! Chapter four at any rate. Onto Chapter five. Ah, a little explanation too.**

**Tesoro:** Darling (literally: Treasure)  
**Harry-ino:** A general term of endearment, a little like -chan. It often comes across as 'Little Harry'.  
**Passerotto:** Sparrow (Term of endearment)  
**Tesorino/Dolcezza:** Sweetheart  
**Coccolissimo:** A little more vague but basically 'Someone who I would always like to snuggle up'.


	5. Books

_**000**_

**Storming Skies**

_It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament_. Gokudera/Harry.

_**000**_

**Chapter Five  
Books**

_**000**_

In the half an hour they spent in the Trunk shop, Harry learned more about theoretical physics and expansion charms than all his years of education, magical, muggle, and Hermione induced, put together. Hayato was a like a second Hermione, only less interested in answering questions so much as asking them all. And he had a lot of them. A never ending stream of them that he asked the increasingly flustered and confused shop-keeper who didn't understand any more of the technological scientific-babble that the silver haired Italian was spewing out better than Harry. It took a promise from Harry to get him some physics books in the muggle world so he could try and wrap his brain around the whole mechanics of it all in order to get Hayato to stop bullying the poor shop assistant enough for them to actually _buy_ what they came in for. A simple Students' trunk, and a bottomless Messenger-bag with inbuilt feather-light and instant recall enchantments.

The Apothecary was an exercise in patience as Harry had to repeatedly tell the Italian that the shop-assistant wouldn't know what half the questions he was asking meant, he knew good quality ingredients, how to get them and store them, but not why and how they were used. Harry would get him a ton of books and guides from the bookshop later, okay? Let's just get the kits and such and GO.

Hayato was thoroughly put out and yet amazed when he was taken into the stationary shop and discovered that quills and parchment were a _staple_ and not just something that Weasley and the Government people were using for official documentation (some places demanded that official documents be done on parchment with fountain pen). He complained bitterly about how stupid and outdated it was, even if he did spend a long time staring longingly at the red ink that was advertised to explode when read out aloud. A prank ink Harry felt Fred and George would have designed had someone not gotten there first. The Italian was particularly enamoured with the notebooks though, once he found them – they weren't easy to find, deemed a little too muggle and shoved to the back and hidden behind a particularly unpopular brand of ink that supposedly used powdered doxies and thus prolonged use had a habit of causing a rash. The books were charmed to never run out of paper but other than that, had a different leather cover and that was about it. Hayato seemed to love them though so Harry got them regardless of his awkward refusals and then later spluttering gratefulness as he hugged him tight enough to nearly knock his glasses askew – he likely would have knocked them off if it weren't for the Sticking Charms applied to it in order to keep it on his face.

Somewhen between the stationary shop and Madam Malkins, Uri found her way back to them – hopping lightly onto Harry's shoulder and meowing indignantly at her lack of attention, which was promptly received and appreciated from the green eyed wizard. She practically wallowed in his arms while Hayato looked on, green with envy.

"Okay, we need the basic uniform set, gloves, a cloak, a hat, and a set of Dress Robes. They're apparently needed for Fourth Year and up," Harry explained as he read from a crumpled piece of Parchment he'd had in his pocket.

"What's that list?" Hayato asked, craning over his shoulder, able to easily read the jagged print with the little extra distance.

"I knew I wouldn't be able to remember everything, so I brought my school supply list for this year. After this, we'll get you a Wand, see what Mister Ollivander says about what you're likely to be skilled in," he explained, after that, they would go to Flourish and Blotts and Harry would say goodbye to the last of his wizarding money. Thankfully, he had exchanged a fairly large chunk into pounds so they would be fine to get the rest of their purchases in the muggle world. Wizards just didn't have a concept of deodorant, disgustingly enough. "Each wand has a certain branch of magic that they're particularly suited to, my mother's was very adept at Charm work while my dad's favoured Transfiguration," he explained with a smile as he gently brushed his fingers over the wooden handle sticking out of his pocket.

The two of them continued on down the alley towards the robe shop before Harry paused, glancing to one side in surprise, he had spent a long time at this place in the summer of his Third Year, but now with his new glasses he realised just how much of Florian Fortescue's Icecream parlour he had missed. He twitched a little when he felt his stomach grumble, ah, yes, he hadn't eaten much for breakfast this morning had he?

"Want to get some icecream before we go to Madam Malkins?" Harry asked pointing to the shop, he had to admit he was craving something sweet right now, despite the cold weather.

Hayato glanced at the shop, probably only seeing it for the first time, and his facial expression lit up in excitement, "Magical icecream?" he squeaked gleefully, "Can we really?" he asked excitedly.

Harry laughed and nodded, "Yeah. They've got some really interesting flavours you can't get in the muggle world either," he explained leading them into the brightly lit shop and shivering a tad as they walked into a wall of dry crisp air that smelt thick with hot-fudge, chopped nuts, and the smell of frozen milk.

Hayato looked around in avid fascination as Harry made his way to the counter, greeting Mister Fortescue brightly. The wizard grinning behind his expansive counter of icecream tubs, olive green eyes crinkling in amusement, "Now what are you doing outside of school, Mister Potter? Not skiving off, are we?" he asked playfully glancing between the two teenagers in his parlour with a mirthful expression.

"As if McGonagall would ever allow it," Harry refuted with a laugh, "No, we're getting school supplies for Hayato. He's a late addition to Hogwarts. I thought we should have a break, if that's okay?" he asked suddenly a little unsure. Were children allowed into Fortescue's outside of the summer holidays in the Wizarding world? He was beginning to regret not knowing more about Wizarding Culture right now.

"For you, Mister Potter, anything. Find yourselves a seat and explore the menu, I'll be right with you. Do you want to order any drinks while you're up here?" Mister Fortescue asked kindly as Hayato came up behind Harry, staring in fascination at the array of icecream flavours in front of him (Spiced Pumpkin, Candied Mandrake, Gillyweed, Amortentia Surprise, Ogden's Oak Matured Meade – ).

Harry nodded, "Hayato, do you want a drink?"

Jade green eyes flickered to the chalk-board behind the counter, sweeping across the various icecream specials, the waffles, pancakes, crepes, pastries, and french toasts, raking down the list of available drinks on one side of the board. "Could I have... a double-shot hazelnut latte with whipped cream?" he asked hopefully.

"Right away, Mister Gokudera. And for you Mister Potter, same as last year?" Mister Fortescue asked cheerfully, flicking his wand quickly at the array of glasses and tubs behind him, animating them into action.

"Yes please," Harry agreed.

"Alright, you boys get yourselves comfortable, I'll be right over."

The two made their way to one of the clean, brightly lit cream and peppermint blue booths and slid in, Uri purring as she slithered off Harry's shoulder to sniff at the sauce bottles on the table, shakers of sugar, chocolate flakes, cinnamon, and nutmeg – sneezing when she put her nose too close to the last.

"He seems to know you pretty well, do you come here often?" Hayato asked as they sat down, looking around the brightly lit, old fashioned parlour curiously before turning his attention back to Harry, his eyes carefully tracing his smiling features and mussed up hair.

Harry shook his head, "Not as much as I would like," he admitted, reaching out and running a hand down Uri's back, the cream coloured feline arching into his hand with a gleeful purr as she turned on the table to nuzzle back up to the young Gryffindor. "Last year I spent two weeks staying in the Alley during summer holidays. I did my homework outside here in the sun. Mister Fortescue would bring me a free sunday every now and again and help with my History homework," he explained as Uri headbutted his chin and rubbed up against him.

Hayato frowned slightly, "Two weeks? Where were your parents?" Things in Japan and the mafia were pretty different, and Hayato knew that thirteen year olds in the West generally weren't allowed to operate without adult supervision. Japan gave their teenagers and youths a lot more autonomy and expected a lot more _from_ them in exchange for that increased freedom and trust. That worked for them, for the most part. Typically in the Mafia world, once you had reached an acceptable competency in your chosen weapon field and left your family house, you were considered cut loose and unaligned. Hayato had been unaligned since he was eight years old and making his own way in a Mafia world that didn't want to give a pianist a chance to prove himself. He had lost count of the number of well meaning busy-bodies that had called the police and social services on him as he ran riot unaccompanied here and there, often after dark.

Harry blinked at him, genuine surprise flickering across his face before his eyes widened in realisation. "Oh! Um, my parents are dead," he admitted awkwardly making Hayato blanch in horror.

"_Mio Dio_, Tesoro, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have - " he spluttered, flapping his hands.

Harry shook his head, "It's okay, really! It's okay, you didn't know!" he assured the Italian before they both went quiet as Mister Fortescue arrives with their drinks.

"Everything alright here? You ready to order?" he asked brightly after he set the hazelnut latte in front of Hayato and the large frothy fudge hot chocolate in front of Harry.

Harry glanced at the suddenly flustered Hayato and looked up at the older Wizard, "Can we have a bowl of everything please?" he requested, that way they could try every flavour without wasting Mister Fortescue's time.

"Right you are, Mister Potter," the Wizard declared and bustled off as Hayato busied himself guiltily with his drink, drooping miserably in his seat at reminding Harry of his dead parents, of bringing it up in such a ham-handed and awful way.

"Hayato...?" He didn't look up, staring miserably at his fingers. "Hayato, it's okay, really. You didn't know. My parents have been dead for longer than I can remember." A pair of small, pale hands hovered awkwardly above his own before withdrawing uncertainly. "It's okay," he repeated.

Not too long later, a series of floating bowls drifted over and settled themselves down on the table and it took a few bowls of odd flavours before Hayato regained his humour, exclaiming in excitement over the various flavours of icecream. The Cockroach cluster icecream had Hayato spitting his mouthful back out into his bowl with a howl of horror and sent him chugging his coffee regardless of the temperature while Harry laughed – he hadn't thought they would _actually_ put real cockroaches in there (Harry knew better after Fred and George pulled the same trick on him in his Second Year) and freaked out when he felt something crunch in his mouth and then pulled a leg from between his lips. Dragon Steak icecream prompted odd facial expressions before it got pushed aside, yeah, meat flavoured icecream, not Harry's cup of tea either. Amortentia Surprise had Hayato pulling the oddest facial expressions and blushing ever so slightly – Harry wondered what he was tasting, by the line in the menu it was designed to taste like whatever it was that Hayato found delicious or erotic.

By the time they had gotten through tasting every bowl of icecream, the two of them were more than a little hyper on large amounts of sugar, laughing and comparing icecream flavours and chattering about the odd foods in the wizarding world and other places around the world. Hayato was bragging about how amazing Italian food was while Harry countered with a few of Mrs Weasley's family recipes and told him about the Hogwarts feasts for Halloween and Yule. (Behind them, Uri busied herself consuming the rejected icecream bowls – the cockroach cluster bowl was ignored funnily enough.)

Hopped up on sugar, Harry dragged Hayato to Quality Quidditch Supplies to explain his favourite sport to him, they must have lost over an hour in the shop as Harry explained the game to him and the two fell about exploring the equipment and the uniforms. Hayato even got to try one of the training brooms out by himself – the tether meant he couldn't fly high or far away without Harry though. They surprised the shop-clerk quite handily when a box of training Snitches got loose in the store, zipping this way and that. Harry, of course, had a Seeker's eye and snatched the majority of them clean out of the air. Uri captured one and spent several minutes worrying at it with tooth and claw before the shop-clerk rescued the poor battered little thing. Hayato nabbed a fair few as well. All in all, by the time they left Quality Quidditch supplies, the sugar rush has faded, and Hayato was irritated with his Box Weapon again as she had gotten her teeth into the animated models of Quidditch players and chewed one of them to all hell – forcing Harry to pay for it before they left (You break it, you buy it, was apparently even applicable in the magical world. Though they were allowed to have one of the Training Snitches for free as thanks for catching it, and as long as they told everyone at Hogwarts where it came from).

"Where to now?" Hayato asked, stretching lazily in the sun.

Harry scratched his mussed up hair thinking before shrugging and rummaging in his pocket for their list, "Madam Malkins."

Five minutes into the Madam Malkins portion of their shopping expedition, Harry was wondering if Hayato would notice if he tried to crawl out of the nearest window and escape. He didn't think he'd ever met anyone who shopped worse than Aunt Petunia before one of Uncle Vernon's Christmas parties. The Italian had some very... unique opinions on style and seemed very determined to see them done. Madam Malkin was torn between scandalised and excited over the challenge and discovery of a new aesthetic. Harry stayed out of the way with Uri curled up on his lap and tried not to draw attention to himself.

The only thing Harry had to veto was the skull motif - "Hayato, no, you can't. Skulls have a _really_ bad connotation here, people will think you're a Death Eater sympathiser," the Gryffindor warned anxiously, eyeing the designs the Italian boy had sketched out on the pattern tissue.

"Death Eater? What's that?" the Italian asked curiously.

"The Neo-Nazi terrorist group that murdered my parents," Harry stated bluntly in the simplest of terms that he would understand.

Hayato shredded the design without hesitation and started anew (mentally deciding that he would dig up as much information on these Death Eaters as he could later).

His Dress Robes ended up being a deep burnished wine-red with black embroidery, two crests stitched into the burnished fabric, one that Harry was told was the symbol of the Vongola Famiglia, the people he worked for, and the other was the Storm Guardian's crest, his position in the Famiglia which he was clearly very proud of. He was less than impressed with the school uniform, and shot the Gryffindor some sceptical and considering glances as Madam Malkin showed him the examples she had – there were a few different styles of the uniform cut that were considered acceptable. Some more old fashioned than others. Either way, upon discovering that he would have to wear yellow as he had been sorted into Hufflepuff, Hayato immediately vetoed the uniform and no words from either Harry or Madam Malkin could convince him.

(While Hayato examined the hats, Harry had a quiet word with the seamstress and ordered three uniforms to be sent to him via Owl Order. He would keep them on hand, just in case, because he damn well knew Professors McGonagall and Snape would kick off, and he didn't want Hayato constantly getting into trouble with the two biggest hardasses in the school.)

Robes bought (the uniforms on back order to be completed after they left and mailed to him tomorrow morning), and stored away in the student trunk, Harry shrank it down and handed the tiny think to Hayato who was absolutely fascinated and enthralled by the thumb-sized trunk. Turning it over in his hands with childish glee. Harry could only shake his head and stroke Uri's ears as she leaned over his shoulder to sniff at the magicked Trunk, mewling in confusion, her ears flattening and then perking up, as if she couldn't decide how to feel.

"Come on. The best is yet to come," Harry said opening the door, "Ollivanders and then Flourish and Blotts."

With the exception of Flourish and Blotts, Ollivanders, the wand shop, had been the place Hayato had been most looking forward to. It was narrow and shabby, peeling gold letters over the door reading '_Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382B.C._' setting every historically interested and conspiracy theorist bone in his body ablaze with fanatical interest. Enough so that he almost wanted to skip the wandshop and immediately go to the bookshop in order to find out as much as he possibly could about just what that sign could mean. In the front window, a dirty, grimy front window not unlike those Hayato had seen in the Leaky Cauldron, a single wand lay on a sunbleached faded purple cushion. Hayato wondered if Wizards had ever invented something like a Cleaning Charm – a little something to do the dusting for them? They probably hadn't given the state of the Leaky Cauldron and now this place.

They stepped inside to the tinkling sound of a bell from somewhere within the dingy depths of the cramped shop. It looked a lot like a mix between an old bookshop and one of those old herbalist workshops he had seen occasionally tucked up in little side alleys in Japan. But instead of shelves upon shelves of books or draws full of herbs and paper packets, they were crammed, wall to ceiling, with crooked stacks of white, red, and black boxes. Boxes that did not look unlike that of a jeweller's watch case. There was a single desk with a quill, some parchment, and an ancient cash-register. Behind them, next to the door, was a bow-legged spindly chair that looked even older and more delicate than the ones from the Leaky Cauldron.

No one was inside, and for a moment, Hayato felt as if he had stepped into a particularly strict library. The feeling passed almost as quickly as Uri meowed loudly in the gloom.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice suddenly resounded from behind them.

Uri yowled in alarm, her claws clamping down on Harry who yelped in pain, even as Hayato whipped around – reaching for dynamite he didn't have. The old man standing behind them had wide pale blue eyes, shining like moons through the darkness of the shop, his whispy white hair fluffed up like a mad scientist from those cartoons Hayato used to watch as a child, and he was looking down at Hayato as if at a bug through a microscope. He felt offset in a way that not even Honourable Talbot-sama hadn't managed and that was one of the creepiest old geezers he had ever met (and he meant that in a very respectful manner!).

"Ah yes, Mister Bonaccord, yes. I did wonder if any of us would see your line again," the elderly man observed, searching his face. "Tragic, the happenings toward your mother. I remember Lavina as a child, she came in the once while your grandfather was looking to repair his wand. Beautiful child. I was most upset that she did not come to me upon her eleventh birthday, but alas, she would have had no need of my skills."

Hayato tensed unhappily at the creepy old man, who did – not – blink throughout his little speech.

He turned away, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Harry, "Ah! Mister Potter! Yes, how lovely to see you again, though it wasn't too long ago. Your wand still operating well, is it?" he asked shrewdly.

Harry grinned a little awkwardly, "Err, yeah. No complaints," he admitted, nervously remembering the last time they spoke and how embarrassed he felt when Cedric admitted to polishing his wand, and Harry couldn't help but recall that he hadn't even washed his own off properly after cramming it up a Troll's nostril at eleven. He should probably look into proper wand maintenance some time soon.

Ollivander nodded serenely, "Well then, what can I do for you gentlemen today?" he asked lightly as he moved towards his desk.

"Erm, we're actually here so that Hayato can get a wand, sir," Harry explained respectfully.

"A wand?" he echoed doubtfully, "I am sorry Mister Potter, but much like his mother, my talents are of no need to Mister Bonaccord. Though his magic is powerful, it is not the kind to be harnessed by Wand or Staff."

So... Hayato was a Squib like his mother? But that... Ollivander had just said he had magic though!

"Che! Then what _can_ it be harnessed by?" the Italian snapped grumpily, he had been looking forward to getting a wand most on this little trip. The disappointment tasted particularly bitter on his tongue.

"Potions, runes, most forms of Divination, Herbology, Arithmancy, Alchemy. My dear boy, you are a Hedge Wizard, a powerful one at that. But still, classified as a Squib. Using a wand is particularly dangerous for you and those around you. Your magic is too volatile to be controlled in such a manner. Explosive for lack of a better word," the elderly wand-maker explained gently.

Harry frowned thoughtfully, "So he's technically still a wizard, because he has magic. But because he can't use a wand, legally he's a Squib, right?" the Gryffindor asked hesitantly.

"Quite right. I am sorry, Mister Bonaccord. Truly. But... it isn't as if you have lost something, young man," he pointed out with a secretive little smile. "No, I dare say you may have gained something instead from this little escapade," he continued, his eyes lingering on Hayato's left arm. The left arm that last night had been bathed in scarlet light as Madam Pomfrey revealed the effects of the ritual, the scarlet light that he still occasionally felt tingling on his skin.

The Storm Guardian subsided in thoughtful silence. That was true. He hadn't lost anything. So what if he couldn't do magic properly? He hadn't needed it before now, had he? He had been perfectly happy without it, hadn't he?

He nodded decisively, "You're right. C'mon Harry, Flourish and Blotts is next, right?"

Bewildered, the Gryffindor nodded hesitantly as Hayato bundled him up under one arm and ushered him out of the dingy little store with a (somewhat forced) grin of excitement. Once outside, he didn't remove his arm and in fact buried his face into Harry's unruly dark hair and just breathed for a moment. Yes he was more than a little disappointed that he wasn't a proper wizard, wasn't able to do magic with a wand, but that didn't mean he couldn't do magic at all, he had been riding a _broom_ not even an hour earlier. And it wasn't like he had lost anything but the opportunity to use a wand either. And he still had Harry at the end of the day too. Gained something indeed.

"Hayato? Are you okay?" he heard Harry ask, a hand hesitantly touching his arm. He nodded, taking a breath and straightening out with a smile.

"Flourish and Blotts?" he asked brightly. Harry stared at him for a moment, frowning in concern but he eventually nodded.

"This way."

He wouldn't bother Harry with his disappointment, or his jealousy. He didn't deserve it.

To Hayato, the book shop was... he didn't even know how to put his words into feelings. Haphazard shelves, old leather bound tomes, zig-zagging stair cases that went on forever overhead, large ladders, piles of books set to one side, the smell of old parchment, leather, paper, and ink. The sound of shuffling papers and low conversation, the ding of a distant cash register, and the almost yellow-tan light that surrounded them that seemed to be unique to old bookshops and distant windows filtering light down past innumerable yellow pages and dusty shelves. It was everything Hayato could conceive of an old magical library and everything he imagined the Vongola archives would look like while being disappointingly medieval because – he didn't even KNOW! He was ecstatic, disappointed, fascinated -

He didn't notice he had wondered too far until he was suddenly chest to nose once again with Harry who squeaked a little in surprise waving away the smoke from his arrival, Uri hissing at him from where she had decided to occupy the boy's shoulders like a scarf.

Green eyes blinked, "Oh! The ritual bond thing. Right. Erm, shall we get a basket and go together? I've got the Hogwarts Curriculum for the last three years but I wasn't able to get some of the other starter books. They should be on the bottom floor. Flourish and Blotts orders things in terms of difficulty. Bottom floor is beginners stuff, and top floor is Ministry Restricted – you have to have a MASTERs in a branch of magic to even have access," the Gryffindor explained, having been forced to sit through many of Hermione's angry rants on that very fact.

It was like unleashing Dudley at a sweet-shop. That was the closest description Harry had for what followed after he picked up a basket. Hayato flicked out his new spectacles, tucked their case back in his robe-pocket and was _off_. Harry trailing after him with wide eyes as the Italian ran his fingers across book spines, picking some out here and there, the edges of his glasses glowing briefly before he would either take the book or set it aside. They had a good twenty books by the time they had finished with the bottom floor, and Hayato showed absolutely no sign of stopping as he pulled Harry up the first flight of stairs and clapped eyes on a shop-assistant.

"Oi, you, Shop-clerk," he barked authoritatively, making both Harry and the clearly recently graduated Ravenclaw jump (Harry knew he was a Ravenclaw because he was still wearing his blue and bronze trimmed robes, sans House-crest now replaced with Flourish and Blotts' logo).

"Yes sir, how can I – Harry Potter!" the boy gaped in shock, his brown eyes widening.

Harry twitched a little, "Er, hi... Sorry, I don't think we've... um..." he trailed off awkwardly as the boy continued to stare unabashedly at his forehead. His hand immediately jumped up to make sure his fringe was covering his scar and the boy hungrily followed the path of his hand with excitement, only for his face to fall when no magical orphan creating scar was paraded around for his viewing pleasure.

"OI!" Hayato suddenly snarled stepping between them. The Ravenclaw jumped violently, once again going into deer-in-the-headlights mode as the taller Italian bore down on him with a face like thunder. "Are you going to spend all day gawping at him or do your damn job?" he snarled before taking the basket off Harry and thrusting it against the boy's stomach, "Carry that and show us to the Runes section," he commanded brusquely.

"Hayato!" Harry gaped, unable to believe that someone who had thus far been so nice be so rude to someone they had never met before.

The Boy Who Lived didn't have a chance to further protest as Hayato promptly chivvied the Ravenclaw off, snatched his arm up and pulled him along behind where the whirlwind began again, this time with Hayato barking orders at the poor overwhelmed Ravenclaw, always making sure to remain between him and Harry as if he were expecting the boy to be a threat.

Then Harry realised that... Hayato didn't know about Voldemort. No one had told him about just who Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived was. He didn't know or understand why the teenager had recognised and reacted the way he did, heck, Harry was willing to bet that Hayato hadn't even realised that the robes the boy was wearing was just a crestless Ravenclaw uniform. With that in mind, his sudden hostility and wariness concerning a stranger that Harry clearly didn't know, not only knowing his name, but also obsessively watching him at every opportunity, staring at his face, would have probably set off every alarm bell that he had, especially when he was aware that Harry's parents had been murdered by magical Neo-Nazis. Hayato seemed to be the protective type.

It was only when they reached the fifth floor that the Clerk, trembling from head to toe, trying to look everywhere but at Hayato and Harry, stuttered out that they weren't allowed to go any higher without at least NEWT qualifications as the tomes above were specialist Apprenticeship and Journeyman volumes for those who planned on sitting their MASTERs degrees.

"That's fine!" Harry broke in sharply, before Hayato could bully the boy further and potentially cost him his job. The Gryffindor gave the taller boy a gimlet stare, "We have enough to be getting along with, don't we?" he asked firmly, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument.

Hayato stared at him for a moment, bewildered and a little startled, before glancing to the violently shaking shop assistance and huffing in disgust, jade green eyes narrowing behind his reading glasses in disdain.

"Tesoro, you don't have to defend-" he began only to cut himself off as Harry lifted a hand to silence him.

"Hayato, at this rate, I won't be able to afford everything," he pointed out, "not only that, but you're scaring him half to death. And I don't want him losing his job for taking us any further," he added gently.

But Hayato didn't hear any of that. He had blanched at the reminder that Harry was paying for everything.

"Shit! Shit, Tesoro, I'm sorry! I forgot! Oh no! How many books did I take? I'll put them back! I can't believe I was - " he babbled frantically, snatching back the basket.

Harry sighed and caught his arm before he rushed off to go and put them all back, "It's okay! Besides, you said you would pay me back, remember? Any more right now and I won't have the money to pay for it though," he reasoned. It was a big fat lie, but they had picked up over a hundred books he figured, and that was a lot of Galleons, but nowhere near enough to dent his vaults – he just didn't want Hayato to bully the poor shop-clerk any further.

It was an apologetic and sheepishly embarrassed Hayato that trailed along after them as they went down to the front desk, the Ravenclaw near enough tripping over himself in relief as he kept Harry between himself and the silver haired boy who had been so aggressive toward him earlier. Harry smiled reassuringly as the boy rang up the obscene number of books they had picked up, the Gryffindor collecting Hayato's trunk and quickly setting each of the books inside once they had been rung up. Telling Hayato that he would help him organise them all when they got back with Hermione's help.

"A-and your t-total comes to... T-twenty five Galleons and sixteen Sickles," the Ravenclaw gasped, his eyes practically popping out of his skull at the obscenely high price. Even Harry had to wince and suck in a sharp breath.

Twenty five Galleons didn't sound like a lot, but it really was. Most muggleborns came in under the impression that a Galleon was equal to five-pounds, they weren't wrong. However. When transferring back, a Galleon was worth a good fifty-pounds. It was both Purebloods trying to take-advantage of the system and Goblins poking them in the eye. Muggleborn were able to afford the best of things no problem, and in the muggle-world, so were the Purebloods (not that they would touch anything muggle with a barge pole). However, to the average witch of wizard, where a good wage was considered to be five sickles an hour, it was an _obscene_ sum of money.

Harry didn't have that number of Galleons with him.

"I'll pay via receipt," he decided with a grimace of pain as he rummaged for his Vault key, telling himself that Hayato would be paying him back as best he could (it was unlikely he would remember, but with this ridiculous sum of money, Harry may just remind him, no matter how rude it was) and it wasn't like the other boy wouldn't let him borrow any of them if he asked nicely. He hoped.

The Ravenclaw nodded, still slack-jawed at the huge sum of money as he laid out the parchment receipt and Harry gently tapped it twice with his Vault key, Hayato practically hanging over his shoulder watching with rapt interest, Uri following suit. Almost at once, the Potter crest and Vault number blossomed to life on the page in the exact spot where Harry tapped it and, after accepting a quill from the Ravenclaw's trembling fingers, he signed his name as well.

"What was that? Was that a spell? What does it do?" Hayato asked curiously, leaning down to get a better look.

Harry smirked slightly, holding up his Vault key for the other to examine letting Hayato take it off him in order to get a better look, neither of them noticing the bug-eyed expression on the clerk's face at the intimate action of allowing someone else to touch your Vault key.

"It wasn't a spell," he said, a little proudly because _this_ was a question he could answer. Bill had explained it to him when he had asked how Mrs Weasley was able to pay for his purchases if she wasn't allowed access to his Vault, and what happened if you had to buy something but didn't have the money on you? "The keys are enchanted, they work a little like a muggle bank-card. You tap an official receipt, like I just did, and it'll imprint the family crest and Vault number onto the paper with magic to validate it. You sign it to show who's given approval for that money extraction, and then the store-manager will head to the bank either tonight or tomorrow to cash it like a Cheque. Originally it was developed so that House Elves could take care of the general house-hold expenses without bothering their Masters for trivial money requests. They would have a special key created and issued to the Head Elf who would make all the purchases and delegate them as required."

Hayato oohed, visibly restraining himself from asking what a House Elf was in front of the store-clerk whom was goggling at Harry with star-struck eyes. He was half tempted to get another book so he could see it in action but restrained himself, the wince of pain that crossed Harry's face a moment ago when he heard the price reminded him that often the money exchange wasn't very kind to non-local currency.

Harry hummed checking the clock, "It's pushing on lunch time," he observed, "Shall we stop for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron? Mr Tom does a really good lamb stew," he offered, grinning.

Hayato nodded grinning, "Sounds go-"

"d-DO YOU REMEMBER IT?"

The two jerked and turned to the Shop-clerk who had slapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide and staring in horror at Harry who had started to scowl and go stiff.

"I-I-I mean... that – that night. D-d-do you remem-"

Harry snatched up the books he had left aside for Hayato to take a peek at during their lunch break, "I remember him laughing as my mother screamed," he stated shortly, his voice strangled and hard, as he turned and hurried out of the shop.

Hayato loomed over the clerk, absolutely beside himself with fury. How dare he! How _dare_ he ask such a question that obviously hurt Harry! Hayato didn't know what made this asshole was talking about (he could guess) but he was going to make it so he could never talk again!

He never got that far.

Just as the clerk scrambled backwards, falling back onto his ass, Hayato puffed away.

Appearing once again in front of Harry who ploughed into him with a yelp, the two of them tumbling to the floor, Uri yowling as she shot away from them to crouch hissing on the cobble stones a few feet away, her tail lashing angrily at her mistreatment.

Harry instantly rolled off and away from him, getting to his feet with babbled apologies. "I'm sorry! I forgot about the bond! Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, leaning over the Italian, his face twisted in concern.

Climbing to his feet, Hayato quickly dusted himself off and then did the same to Harry, "I'm fine. You were upset though. Want me to go and break his teeth?" he asked kindly, dragging the smaller of the two into his arms, a hand smoothing possessively down his back, feeling the soft-ridges of the scars under his robes. Scars gained protecting him. His scars.

Harry huffed, he squirmed a little uncomfortably in Hayato's arms but the taller of the pair didn't let go, Harry needed a hug. Plus, scientifically, a sincere hug that lasted for more than twenty seconds was good for you, it released endorphins and everything that made battling depression more successful. And Hayato wanted to hug Harry a lot more in future, the more used to it he got the boy, the longer they could cuddle for.

"No..." the boy finally relented, dropping his head against Hayato's chest, the Italian internally doing a happy-dance, especially when he felt one of Harry's hands latch onto the fabric of his elbow, not quite willing to touch him properly just yet. Baby steps, Hayato, baby steps. He couldn't bulldoze this like with Juudaime. "He's not worth the Auror charges. Let's just... get lunch. I think there are some things I need to explain..." he muttered softly, hand dropping away heavily, like the bottom of Hayato's stomach.

He had a bad feeling that he wasn't going to like this conversation at all.

_**000**_

**No Hayato, you really aren't.**


	6. Explanations

_**000**_

**Storming Skies**

_It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament_. Gokudera/Harry.

_**000**_

**Chapter Six  
Explanations**

_**000**_

Yet again, they were back in the Leaky Cauldron where Harry spoke quietly with the barman who nodded solemnly and handed over a pair of menus before leading the pair up the stairs to a private parlour, Uri bounding along at their feet trying to catch a bug that buzzed around Harry's trouser-leg before losing interest as they were shown into the small cosy little room. It had two squashy dining chairs and a round, table of scrubbed wood. A fireplace, and a number of windows kept the room well lit and there was a faint smell of honeysuckle permeating the room.

"We should probably eat first," Harry said as he flicked his wand at the door and windows, murmuring a few spells. "I don't think I'll be able to eat after explaining all this," he admitted slowly as he slipped his wand away and sat down.

They looked through the menus in silence, Harry tapping each of their choices on the menu with his wand. The food and drink appearing a moment later on their plates. Uri meowed loudly in affront until Harry ordered some raw chicken and water for her to chew through – despite Hayato's moan of protest. She was never going to return to her gear at this rate! Though... Harry seemed to like having her around so... he guessed he could deal with having her out and about. She seemed to like him enough. If she clawed him though, he was forcing her dismissal so fast her head would spin!

They ate in awkward silence, Harry seemingly having to choke down his food as his nerves got the better of him. Hayato wanted to break the silence, but didn't know how. He couldn't even bring himself to say anything when Harry pushed half his meal away and took to sipping his drink nervously instead.

It was all too soon that their plates were cleared, and popped away. Leaving just their drinks (Harry's refilled), napkins, and themselves.

Harry shifted, taking another nervous sip of his drink before sighing as he fiddled with the corner of his napkin.

"I-... back there... I'm sorry about storming out of the shop," he apologised, not looking up. "This all must be really confusing for you and, I can't imagine how hard it must be to be taken away from family and friends like this and thrown into a strange world." On one level, he could, but on the others, no he couldn't. He had never been dragged away from people he actually gave a damn about in order to be taken into this world, he went willingly at the first opportunity of escape he found. "You see... argh, this really isn't easy to explain. Hermione told you about the Purebloods, right? How they look down on people with muggle-blood. Well, it was a little more serious than that. Several Purebloods started working for a man calling himself Voldemort, their goals are a little murky, no one is hundred percent certain what they were aiming for, it seemed to change so often... But either way, the results were murders, terror, rape, destruction... It got so bad that people refused to ever say Voldemort's name, saying You Know Who, and He Who Must Not Be Named instead. That's why skulls have such a bad rap here, snakes too. It was his symbol. A skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. He would cast it into the sky where-ever he and his people had committed an act of murder or brutality. Signing their work, so to speak. They had pretty much taken over the Government and were on the way to winning when... he decided to try and murder me."

Hayato swallowed tightly, feeling his blood run cold. Obviously it hadn't worked out, because Harry was sat in front of him right now, but a wizard who was able to nearly conquer a nation of magic users had to be ridiculously powerful. Like... Byakuran or Bermuda powerful. Maybe even Checker Face powerful. He took several deep steady breaths. He couldn't afford to shut down here, not now.

Harry grimaced, now twisting the napkin inbetween his fingers, "No one knows why. I used to think he was after my parents and everyone was just dramatizing it. Mum was a muggleborn and one of the best Charms Mistresses of the age, and my Dad was a Light Pureblood from a pretty influential family standing against him. But... I found out last year that they were right. It _was_ me he was after. Last year, there were Dementors guarding the school. They're like... the Ring Wraiths from the Lord of the Rings. Black shrouds of evil, they... they're kind of humanoid but they... they're wraiths, hooded at all times. Save when they... They eat your soul. Most of the time they feed on your happy memories, force you relive the worst of them. It's like... a bone deep cold that rattles in your lungs. You feel heavy and tired, everything goes hazy and dim and it's like... you'll never be happy again. Like you're drowning in ice and looking up for the sun only there isn't any and you're sinking further and further away, your lungs crushing under the pressure. It's horrible. They're horrible. They look like a corpse that's been drowned. No eyes, no noses, grey rotting skin with holes for ears and a mouth, no a _maw_. Just a gaping, sucking black maw for a mouth. Lipless, toothless, and cold." He shivered violently in his chair, twisting his napkin hard enough to tear it. Hayato reached over the table and grabbed his trembling hands, gripping them tightly. He wanted to shove the table aside and bundle the dark haired boy up and never let go. Take him away to Japan and to Juudaime and Reborn who would protect him like they had him, give him a home, a place to belong, and friends who would watch his back. But Harry wouldn't let him. All he could do was hold his hand right now and force himself to stay silent as his future husband forcefully choked out his story, told him who and what he was to these people. Told him just how incredible and amazing he really was. He had to keep reminding himself, chanting in his head, to take this slowly, he couldn't just bulldoze in. Harry was emotionally fragile from all this bullcrap other people were heaving onto him, likely as not, he never knew what friend was really a friend or just a hanger on, whether they cared about him or about this Boy Who Lived crap. He _had_ to be patient. He had to take this slowly, or he could risk losing Harry forever. The ritual only BROUGHT him to his Soul Mate, it didn't give him any other helping hand than that.

Harry stared sightlessly at them for a heartbeat. They were warm. Almost hot against his icy cold fingers. His shaking subsided a little.

"Whenever they came close... I could hear him murder her. Murder my mother," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. He had never admitted to anyone, even Remus or Sirius or Hermione, how much that had shaken him, how much that had twisted at him. Because he hated to hear it but at the same time, _longed_ for it so very much. It was he only time he could hear her voice. The only true and real proof he had of her love for him. People could tell him time and again until they were blue in the face, but only four years of them telling him how his mother and father loved him enough to die for him, he had ten years of his Aunt and Uncle telling him what a freak and a burden he was, that his parents didn't care enough about him to even live long enough to raise him. That they didn't care enough to survive to take care of him. That they would rather die than deal with him. He knew they were lying, intellectually, but still...

"I – I have bad reactions to Dementors. The first time one came into our train compartment, I collapsed. It felt like I was drowning and all I could hear was screaming. It sounded as if it were coming through a bad radio and then... then the next time she was saying my name. It... It was the only time I ever heard her voice. When they got near to me. And... I... As much as I hated them, how they made me feel I... I wanted to hear her again. It was the only real proof I had that she loved me. My Aunt constantly told me that I was unwanted, unloved, a burden, and a freak. That my parents died in a drunk driving accident.

"But I could hear her begging him, begging Voldemort to spare me. To take her life instead of mine."

"She loved you dearly," Hayato said softly.

Harry twisted his napkin mutely. "He killed her anyway. And then he tried to kill me. I can remember him laughing. Green light. But... that's all. No one knows what happened afterwards. But that green light he used was the Death Curse. Avada Kedavra. It's supposed to be unblockable, uncounterable, unsurvivable. I shouldn't have survived. But I did. And supposedly the spell rebounded off me, giving me this scar," he explained, pushing aside his fringe to reveal the thin lightning bolt scar. "Supposedly the rebounding spell destroyed him so... To everyone, I'm a hero. This scar is the symbol of the end of a war that nearly destroyed us as a people. As much as I _hate_ it, hate what it symbolises and how I gained it, I can't really blame them for constantly looking for it. I don't believe that Voldemort's death really had anything to do with me but for them it's like... being shown the noose or the executioner's blade that took the head of a tyrant. It's uncomfortable but I can't blame them for it, even if Voldemort isn't as gone as they wish he was."

Hayato stiffened at the thought of that bastard who tried to murder his Harry, and succeeded in murdering his parents, still lurking around, possibly wanting to finish the job.

"What do you mean? I thought his body was destroyed?" he asked sharply.

Harry shook his head, "Hagrid says that there wasn't enough human in him left to die properly. He's probably right. The last time I saw him he was using Unicorn's blood to survive and living like a parasite on the back of our Defence Professor's head. It was in my first year. Dumbledore heard that Voldemort was going to try and steal the Philosopher's Stone from his old mentor, Nicholas Flamel, so he took the stone out of Gringotts and hid it in Hogwarts on the third floor corridor behind a series of traps. I think it was also a way of trapping Voldemort to show the rest of the world he was back but... I guess Ron, Hermione, and I kind of messed it up for him. We found out that the Stone was in Hogwarts and that Voldemort was after it too. At the time we thought Professor Snape was going to try and give it to him because we'd overheard him bullying Quirrel about the traps earlier in the year. We had it the wrong way around. Snape was trying to bully Quirrel away from them. Figure out how much he knew and then change the traps. It didn't work out so well. And then Dumbledore was called away and we knew he would try going through the Trap Door that night. We tried to tell several teachers but they didn't believe us. So we went anyway. We got through the traps with a little difficulty. There was a three-headed dog, a Devil's Snare, a room full of flying keys, a giant chess board, a lock-in puzzle room with potions, another giant troll, and the final puzzle, the Mirror of Erised. A mirror enchanted to show you your heart's desire and make you waste away in front of it. I had to leave Ron and Hermione behind before going in, there was only enough potion to get one person through the fire so I went. And I found Quirrel. With Voldemort in the back of his head. He was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone in order to remake his body and become immortal."

"What happened? You're okay right?" Hayato asked, gripping his hand tightly. He desperately wanted to lunge over the table and enfold the Gryffindor in the tightest hug he humanly could, but he refrained.

Harry nodded, "Yeah. The blood-protections that my mother's death gave me meant that Voldemort couldn't actually touch me. If he did, his flesh burned. So... I kind of... grabbed his face. And didn't let go," he admitted awkwardly, shuddering at the memory of human-flesh turning to ash under his fingertips. "I passed out and woke up in the hospital wing later, I don't remember what happened. Dumbledore said that Voldemort fled, leaving Professor Quirrel to die. I managed to save the Stone though. But Mister Flamel and his wife decided to destroy it as it was too tempting a chance for Voldemort."

Hayato hissed, "So he's still alive..." he grit out.

Harry nodded, "Both Dumbledore and Professor Moody think that my being entered into the Triwizard Tournament is just another attempt to kill me. Thing is, we don't know why or who did it. With the exception of Mister Malfoy slipping an enchanted Diary of Voldemort's into Hogwarts, he's been pretty quiet recently. Gathering his strength probably."

"Enchanted Diary? What happened?" Hayato asked warily. Harry's school life was beginning to sound about as exciting as his in the Vongola, but worse because he had to fight alone!

"The Chamber of Secrets was opened," Harry stated with a shrug, but elaborating at the look of confusion on Hayato's face. "Er, basically, Slytherin, one of the school founders, didn't like muggleborn. Given the period of history he lived in, I don't blame him. About a thousand years ago a great deal of them would have needed to have been taught how to read and write, basic hygiene, not to mention they were probably threats to themselves and other students due to the religious hysteria of the era, _'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live_' and all that crap. If they lived long enough to get their Hogwarts letter that is. But either way, the other founders kicked him out. But before he left he made a secret chamber somewhere in the school and left a monster inside that only his Heir could control. About fifty years ago, the chamber was found and opened. A girl died and a number of other students were petrified. At the time, Hagrid was blamed because he was raising an Acromantula in a cupboard. Which is bullshit because Acromantulas are incapable of causing petrification and the girl was completely unharmed at the moment of her death. In fact, she's currently a ghost at Hogwarts. Moaning Myrtle. They could have just asked her what happened, but they didn't bother, just deciding to expel a third year Gryffindor student on the word of their Golden Boy Head-Prefect. Joke was on them. Tom Marvolo Riddle, Slytherin Head-Boy, eventually grew up to be Voldemort and was actually the one to open the Chamber of Secrets. He preserved a copy of himself, a memory he said, in his diary at the time. Lucius Malfoy slipped it into Ginny Weasley's cauldron at Flourish and Blotts at the start of the school year, apparently it was some kind of plot to discredit Mr Weasley who was writing a new law that would benefit muggles and muggleborns. Mister Malfoy didn't like that idea so he took one of Voldemort's old school things and gave it to Mr Weasley's daughter in the hopes that if she was caught with something so obviously dark, it would discredit her father. I don't think he intended for it to possess her and unleash a millennia old basilisk in the castle."

Hayato paused, his eyes widening, "Basilisk. The... King of Serpents that can kill with its gaze alone?" he asked tightly. THAT creature was known even in the muggle world.

Harry nodded matter of factly, a lot calmer now that he was no longer speaking of Dementors, or his parents murders, "Yeah. That was how Myrtle died, you know. The entrance to the Chamber was in the girls' bathroom. She was crying in there after she had been bullied by a girl called Olive Hornby, she heard a boy in the room and opened the door to tell him to use his own bathroom only she came nose to nose with the basilisk. All she saw were its eyes and then she was floating away. Her words, not mine. But yeah. Ginny ended up possessed by Voldemort's diary. There are times when I don't think she's really recovered. She gets a really strange look on her face when she sees me, as if she isn't certain whether she should hug me or strangle me. Hermione figured out it was a Basilisk before any of us. I kept hearing a voice in the walls all year, I thought I was going crazy, but it turns out that I was a Parselmouth. Someone who could speak to snakes and understand them. The voice I could hear was the Basilisk using the school plumbing to get around. Then Ginny herself was taken. The Diary was going to suck her life out in order to form its own body. Ron and I went to tell the Defence teacher at the time but he was planning on running away. So we forced him to come with us to the Chamber where he attempted to memory charm both me and Ron and leave us down there to die. Ron's wand was broken though, so the spell backfired and ended up causing a massive rockslide that separated us. The teacher ended up forgetting everything, even his name, he was, surprisingly, a lot more pleasant after that. I rescued Ginny with a little help from Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, and that was that. Basilisk dead, Chamber closed, Diary destroyed."

"How did you kill it?" Hayato asked anxiously, knowing a gloss-over when he heard it. Harry looked away awkwardly.

"With a sword," he explained edgily.

"How?" Hayato repeated with narrowed eyes, tightening his grip when Harry attempted to pull his hands away.

Harry shifted, "I may have... waited... until it had its mouth open and then... shoved it up through the roof of its mouth," he explained hesitantly. "I'm fine now! Really! Fawkes healed me up almost immediately!"

"Heal- _it __bit__ you?!_" Hayato squawked, this time jumping up from the chair and whipping around the table so fast his chair up-ended itself, sending the bug that Uri had been chasing buzzing towards the rafters as he seized his Soul Mate by the shoulders and started tugging at his clothes, checking him for injuries.

"Hayato! I'm fine! I swear!" Harry yelped, trying to fend him off. "Gerroff! I'll show you! Stop it!" he snapped grabbing the hands that were trying to get into his robes and pushing them away with a huff of annoyance. He even took a step back and then pulled up a sleeve, showing his left bicep and the large two inch wide scar that dimpled into his flesh. It was mildly discoloured, the veins around it darker than they should have been and the scar itself a pearly white colour. He couldn't stop himself from touching it, noticing a little vaguely that Harry shivered when he did, meaning that it had some feeling, or was perhaps more sensitive due to the scar tissue as he gently grazed his fingers across the white skin. Just how often had this amazing person put his life on the line for others? How often had he been hurt in the process, silently accepting the scars he gained as a worthwhile payment for being able to save a life?

He took a deep breath and swallowed back his panic and anger and fear, pushing it down deep, and pulled the Gryffindor close, hugging him tightly. His arms wrapping around his back, fingers splaying to hold as much of him as possible even as he bent forward and buried his face into the side of the boy's neck, inhaling deeply against his skin. And just held him.

Just how many times had he nearly lost this person before he ever had the chance to meet him?

"Never again, Tesoro. Never again. I won't let..." he trailed off, unable to put it into words.

Harry sighed, "Well, you're going to have to. I still have two tasks left in this Tournament. Not only that but you're new to magic. I think the fact that I've survived Trolls, Cerberus, Arcomantulas, Centaurs, Basilisks, Death Eaters, Dementors, Werewolves, and now dragons, I can manage myself." He then snorted, "Safest place in England, yeah right," he muttered sarcastically.

Hayato choked a laugh out, hugging him a little more tightly before drawing away and looking the younger boy in the face, he tilted his head down and pressed a kiss to the younger's forehead. The only kiss he was going to allow himself for a long time to come.

"Sorry, Passerotto. But I'm a Guardian. Protecting the people I care about is the job-description," he muttered and he reburied his face into the dark haired boy's neck, fighting the urge to start planting kisses on the warm, pale skin there. It was hard though. Especially when it was right there under his nose, against his face. He felt a pair of hands rest against his back and refrained, having to remind himself again about baby-steps. Harry was as skittish as a cat, he couldn't push this or he would risk losing the other's trust in the same way that Weasley had.

"What is a Guardian? I know you're a Storm Guardian for the Vongola Family, but what does it mean?" the Gryffindor asked, changing the subject. He would catch Hayato up on the rest later that night, for now, he seemed a little overwhelmed. Mmm, given the whole Sirius thing... maybe it was a good idea _not_ to tell him about that one? He might freak out more than he was already doing if he learned how the justice system in the Wizarding World worked – it sure freaked him the hell out to learn that someone could just be thrown into Azkaban without trial because someone couldn't be bothered.

Unwillingly, the silver haired teenager released Harry and went to go and sit back down (after picking his chair up), and began to explain his role within the Vongola, as Tsuna's right hand man, and his protector (but, as always, keeping quiet about the mafia aspect of it).

_**000**_

The two returned to Hogwarts quite a bit later in the day. After leaving the Leaky Cauldron, Harry took them into Muggle London getting other supplies such as toiletries, elasticated underwear and socks, and more other more familiar hygiene products – and clothes that Hayato considered acceptable casual wear. God he powershopped worse than Aunt Petunia when Uncle Vernon got a Work Bonus. Harry was exhausted, his feet hurt, his arms hurt, he felt wrung out both emotionally and physically from the secrets revealed and the amount of dragging through London Hayato had done. They hadn't just gone clothes shopping, oh no. Hayato had insisted on other things as well, what on earth he wanted with so much in the way of cleaning supplies Harry did not _want_ to know as he heard the other muttering about chemical compositions and how it affected the concussive force of the blast and – that sounded a lot like explosives he was talking about. And Harry had firmly told himself that if he didn't listen, he didn't have to care.

They had several bags of muggle clothing from various outlets. Hayato had not been happy with Marks and Spencers, or John Lewis, or Debenhams, and so had dragged Harry through _so many_ back streets in order to find the little shops tucked up out of the way that catered to his particular tastes in clothing. All of them ridiculously expensive and very punk-rock-alternative. About half of the bags were clothes that Hayato insisted Harry get for himself as well), shrunken down and hidden within Hayato's trunk. Along with toiletries, cigarettes (a lot of them. It turned out that Hayato was a bit of a chain smoker. The afore mentioned cleaning supplies, a suit, and a new pair of dress-shoes to go with his robes were also in various bags that Harry had slipped into his trunk when they returned to the Leaky Cauldron to Portkey back.

Given the time-differences between England and Japan however, when Hayato tried to call Juudaime from a pay-phone in an internet café not far from Kings Cross Station, he had been sent straight to voice mail. Leaving a message, he then proceeded to e-mail the brunet with a brief explanation of what was going on – not telling Harry exactly what was written as he knew that his future husband would be concerned with his revealing of the Magical World (even though Hayato was fairly certain they would simply be considered a different branch of magic users. After all, the Flames of Sky and Earth were of a similar kidney to magic. Weren't they?). '_Magic was real, apparently my grandparents were magical, the ritual worked. I'm stuck for a year and a day with my soul-mate, don't worry about me, I'll try and come home as soon as possible but things are a little difficult as they're still in school. The school doesn't allow electronics so don't be surprised if an owl shows up with a letter for you, it's a trained courier. I'll explain more in the letter. I'm safe and alright. They're being very kind to me. Tell Kaoru I'm sorry for ruining his birthday._', something along those lines.

And then they went back to the Leaky Cauldron where Harry portkey'd them back to Hogwarts. They landed in the antechamber just outside the Great Hall, the same one that they first years were taken into before going into the Great Hall at the start of the year Harry told him as they picked themselves up and Harry stowed the last of their bags into Hayato's trunk before shrinking it again.

Tiredly, the Gryffindor checked his watch before nodded, "Dinner should be just starting, let's head to the Great Hall. I don't think my feet could handle heading to the kitchens right now," he admitted with a self-depreciating laugh. Hayato winced, recalling the way he had pretty much dragged Harry across one end of London and then to the other and back again in search of his particular taste in clothing, instead of just accepting the charity he was being bestowed with. He had been selfish again.

"I'm sorry, Tesoro!" he spluttered, "I'll rub your feet when we get to the dormitories!" he proclaimed.

Harry laughed a little awkwardly at his offer, "Err, no, it's okay. I just need to sit down for a bit," he assured the older boy as they left the antechamber and made their way to the Great Hall, several students pausing at the sight of them as they passed by.

Harry blinked as several of them broke out into giggles and whispers pointing to the pair of them with knowing grins. That was different. Wary now, Harry stepped into the Great Hall with Hayato just a step behind him and a sea of eyes turned to stare at them.

Hayato bristled violently, shifting protectively at Harry's shoulder while the Gryffindor tensed sharply, hand twitching toward his wand. And in that moment the whole Hall exploded into noise. Girls giggling and shrieking or moaning in pain, guys catcalling across the room or shouting, questions bellowed at them from across the room. Harry froze, highly tempted to turn tail and just sprint away from the Great Hall because this had _NEVER_ happened before. There had been dead silence when he had been chosen as the Fourth Champion, there had been explosive cheering when he ended up in Gryffindor House, but never had he been the focus of attention in this kind of way.

He took a step back and bumped into Hayato behind him.

"Harry!" Hermione called, rushing over, her eyes wide when she saw the look of barely leashed panic on his face.

"**THAT IS ENOUGH!**" Professor McGonagall's soronos'd voice roared out over the rioting students, cracking like a whip and silencing them immediately. "**Settle down immediately and return to your meals! If one more person bellows across the Hall like a barbarian, their house will lose fifty points!**" she warned severely in the now ringing silence of the room.

Hermione caught Harry's hand, "Neville and I saved you two a space. C'mon," she whispered, quickly leading both Harry and Hayato to a space at the end of the Gryffindor table surrounded by the fourth years and what remained of the Quidditch Team – all rallying around their Seeker protectively.

"What was all that?" Hayato demanded shortly as he sat down, making sure Harry was tucked against his side, glaring in paranoia at everyone around them.

"Well, Rita's article set off quite the bomb after you two left," one of the twins said. Making Harry frown.

"Article? What did she lie about now?" he complained darkly.

Hermione nibbled her lower lip and then produced the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, "Well, I'm not exactly sure it was a lie. Unless the whole thing was," she admitted, handing it over and letting Harry get a look at the collective headlines. "What I want to know is how she overheard what I was saying to Hayato. She wasn't anywhere near the medical tent when we were talking," she admitted suspiciously as Harry's eyes practically bugged out of his skull.

"_True love or just trouble_?" he echoed in disgust, "_In the latest scandal to involve our media sweetheart, Harry Potter... events during the First Task leave him standing head and shoulders above the competition in terms of points, regardless of biased judging (see page twenty), but forced to compete with the burden of a Plus One... Partaking in an Ancient Love Ritual struck from Hogwarts records in order to preserve the alliances and arranged marriages of yester-year, Italian born Hayato Gokudera, last of the Bonaccord line (see page three) appeared in midair during the First Task, dropping onto Harry Potter, the person specified in the Love Ritual he completed... Tied for a year and a day, neither can move further than ten feet from the other before being forcibly returned to their side regardless of anti-apparation wards (see more on Love Rituals and how they Work on page eighteen). Thus leaving Mister Potter at a crippling disadvantage for the February and June Events.'_ How the fuck does she even know this stuff?" Harry cursed as he quickly summarised the article, unable to stop himself from reading a few parts aloud.

"Well, no offence mate, but she kind of has a point about your being at a disadvantage with lover-boy there. He can't interfere with the Tasks, meaning you'll have to cover your ass, and his, at the same time," one of the twins pointed out grimly.

Hayato's hackles jutted up furiously, "If you think for one second I'm going to let him face this thing alone, I'll cram that knife and fork up your nose and slam your head on this damn table," he hissed.

The twins exchanged glances but decided not to comment or try and push the apparently volatile Italian's buttons as Harry continued reading his expression wavering between disbelief, outrage, and oddly enough, hilarity.

"Harry?" Hermione questioned anxiously.

"They're making Hayato out to be some kind of Casanova-lady-killer," he managed to get out before a snort of amusement overtook him. "How did she even know about this stuff? She wasn't there for any of it."

Angelina leaned in, "Wait, so... It's true?" she asked in disbelief.

Hayato nodded as he read over Harry's shoulder, his eyebrow climbing higher and higher as he quickly scanned the text, huh, magic newspapers had moving pictures, okay.

"Yeah. All of it. Though I didn't ask for Harry _specifically_. I just... said what I liked in a person. And..." He shrugged helplessly in a 'what can you do' way that had all present with slack jaws.

"She _WASN'T_ lying for once?!" Seamus squawked, loudly enough for the surprisingly quiet Great Hall to get every word.

"FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR AND DETENTION WITH ME, MISTER FINNIGAN!" Professor McGonagall roared across the Hall, just before it exploded in voices and shouts.

"I guess this means you like it up the arse! I always knew you were a little bitch!" Draco Malfoy's voice could be heard cackling over at the Slytherin table, whose laughter almost tripled in the wake of his oh so witty jeer. Laughter that almost immediately died when Professor McGonagall dished out the same punishment that Seamus now suffered onto Malfoy, detention and the removal of fifty points.

Harry frowned in bewilderment, "What does that mean?" he asked warily, looking at Hermione and the twins who all went very still and stared at him.

Beside him, Hayato's eyes widened in disbelief as he stared down at his Soul Mate. Had he really just asked...

Harry looked between them, "What?" he frowned, "_What_?"

"Harry, do you know how... gay men, you know... make love?" Hermione asked delicately.

The green eyed boy eyed her quizzically, "They can do that? But..." he trailed off in confusion, blinking at her. And then he seemed to rewind what Malfoy had shouted at him across the Great Hall and blanched so rapidly he turned grey. "No way. That's an exit hole, Hermione! Even the doctors said so!" he hissed in a mix of terror and disgust, eyes practically popping out of his skull.

The twins exchanged looks, "Doctors? Those muggle-healers?" they parroted in tandem with curiosity and growing hilarity on their faces. "What does your bum have to do with a 'doctor'?" they asked.

Harry shuddered, "Not mine! When we were younger Dudley somehow got it into his head to cram a toy Action Man up there. It got stuck and we ended up having to go to the Emergency Room to have it taken out. I've never seen Uncle Vernon so furious. It was the first and the last time I've ever seen him shout at Dudley properly. He kept saying how you weren't supposed to put things in there and if anyone even suggested that you should, you were to punch them in the mouth and get as far away from them as possible. He kept shouting at Dudley about how people who put things up their arseholes were perverts and freaks worse than magic users – not that he _said_ magic users, but, yeah. Even the doctors that took the Action Man out agreed that it was an exit hole and you weren't supposed to put things inside of it," he explained seriously with a traumatised shake of his head.

The twins were trying very hard not to roar with laughter as they clapped Hayato on the back, "Best of luck. You'll need it," they told him tightly before making their way out of the Great Hall – their roaring fit of laughter could be heard all the way from the Marble staircase.

Hermione stared helplessly at Harry and then at Hayato, mouth opening and closing helplessly while Dean gave up all pretence of caring and just laughed into his Beef Wellington at the look on the Italian's face.

All the while, Harry just looked between them all, thoroughly confused and not a little unsettled.

_**000**_

**XDDDD Reighost and I had way too much fun discussing this online. We're a terrible, incredible, duo and shouldn't be left unsupervised.**

For people asking on a Namimori update: Every ten chapters is going to be a Special Namimori Interlude. So Chapter 10 we will not only see the aftermath of the party, but also Hayato's full message, and Tsuna's reaction to it. Have some patience please.

_And yes, I have heard doctors say the butthole is an outhole. When I was younger, I stupidly got a crayon stuck up my nose because I was a small child and an idiot, there was a boy in the same ward who got something that was never told to me up his butt. I remember the doctor telling him that things don't go up your butt._

Sex Education in Year 5 English schools (so about 9years old) comprises entirely of: this is a wet dream and an erection and here is how to clean up after yourself. No put this condom on a banana and watch a video. Okay, job done. That was for the guys. The girls had periods covered and that was it. Proper sex education, where sex was covered, didn't happen until 12 at Secondary school. And I doubt Hogwarts covers it at _ALL_.


	7. Conflict

_**000**_

**Storming Skies**

_It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament_. Gokudera/Harry.

_**000**_

**Chapter Seven  
Conflict**

_**000**_

Breakfast the next day was surprisingly subdued after the events of the previous evening, even the Daily Prophet wasn't reporting anything all that interesting. After a rather distressing talk from Hermione about the mechanics behind being intimate in a gay relationship (Harry was still confused over how two guys could even – no, best not think about it anymore, otherwise Hermione may unload more disturbing information onto him), everyone had headed up to Gryffindor Tower where even more questions were thrown at him and Hayato regarding the information in the Prophet. People asking about Hayato's family, about the ritual, about what he asked for in a person. That last one was particularly horrifying for Harry who quite stubbornly maintained that he must have gotten blown off course because Hermione was over there and _obviously_ she was who he had been talking about.

That had then started Hayato off on a '_must praise Harry_' binge and the Gryffindor spent that evening wanting the ground to rise up and swallow him alive as he tried to practically hide under Hermione who was laughing herself sick as Hayato very seriously and intensely listed all of his observations on how amazing and wonderful Harry was. Loudly. In the middle of the Common Room. With everyone listening in.

It took some effort, but Harry managed to escape up to the dormitories quickly enough by reminding him, just as loudly, that he had to write that letter to his Boss, which then had Hayato drag him upstairs and away from everyone's laughter. Thankfully the dormitories had been shuffled around so that there was now enough space for Hayato in the tower to have his own bed. The Room had been enlarged a bit, and given the leash distance, the two of them were moved to the otherside of the room next to the bathroom so they could use the toilets without the leash snapping them back into one another's space as well, now they were next to Neville – or rather, Hayato was between Harry and Neville, the younger of the pair next to the bathroom door. After sorting through all of their purchases, with Hermione's help when it came to the books (Hayato may have gained a new bestfriend in the brunette as she practically lit up in glee at the sheer number of them), Hayato had written his letter, marvelled over Hedwig when the clever lady appeared at their window, knowing her services were needed, and set off for 'Italy' (Japan). Despite Harry's concern, they'd all settled down to sleep not long later and that had been that, the end of a very tiring day.

The problem now was that Hayato was acting very strange, avoiding eye-contact with everyone and obsessively guzzling coffee and patting down the pockets that Harry was now aware had cigarettes and a lighter within, no doubt counting the seconds until Harry had finished eating and he could drag him outside in order to light up. He had been acting strangely ever since he woke up. He had practically jumped like a scalded cat when Harry came into the bathroom as he was washing his hands and shot out of the room fast enough to leave the Gryffindor's head spinning. By the time Harry had finished washing and dressing, he was clothed and hanging out of the window chain smoking, two cigarette butts already stubbed out on the windowsill while Ron, Seamus, and Neville shot him looks of pure shock and scandal for his behaviour. Dean looked torn between admiration and curiosity, as if he were one step away from asking if Hayato would share. Very strange.

After finishing breakfast Harry did indeed find himself pulled outside by a mildly coffee-hyped Hayato so that he could smoke. Thankfully, this last one finally seemed to set him at ease enough to actually start talking, even if he still found it difficult to look at him for any length of time without turning red. Just _what_ had happened last night? Had the twins threatened him while Harry wasn't paying attention or something?

"So, what's happening today?" he asked, brushing pale flakes of ash from his plain black robe – he had opted not to wear a uniform today, and given what lessons were happening today... Harry winced a little and double checked the spare uniform robe he had folded in his bag.

"First is History of Magic. Professor Binns teaches it, er, you may want to bring a book with you. He's got one of those voices that puts everyone to sleep if you try to actually pay attention. Everyone self-studies History because the Professor only ever covers Goblin Rebellions," Harry explained as he leaned against one of the castle walls. "After that, we've got Potions before Lunch. That should be... interesting," he muttered unhappily.

Hayato blew out a stream of smoke, "Interesting how?" he asked warily.

"Professor Snape hated my father. And since he's dead, he can't really take it out on him anymore. So, he takes it out on me. Plus, he's the Head of Slytherin House. He hates pretty much everyone who isn't Slytherin by default. Don't be surprised if he takes points off for breathing too loudly. That's a favourite one of his," Harry explained with a bitter grumble.

"Really..." Hayato murmured, glaring at the slightly frost-rimed mud on the floor, fingers crushing the cigarette by accident. He swore and tossed it aside before he burned himself. He would deal with this Snape character when they met, he decided, feeling his blood stir in anticipation. No one was going to insult Harry in front of him. He would blow them up until nothing but charred hair and bloodstains remained.

History was, as Harry warned him, boring beyond belief. Hayato _attempted_ to pay attention, for all of five minutes, and then ended up cracking out one of his more recently purchased books about ingredient preparation in Potions, questioning Harry as he did so. Turned out that Snape didn't go through any of the information with the students so everything in the book was news to Harry, much to Hayato's disgust, did this Snape character not know how to _teach_? Even if the Senseis at Namimori were a waste of air that often did more harm than good, at least they gave their students the very basics with which they could build their own knowledge skills off of. Proper ingredient preparation in potions was like... like knowing addition and subtraction in mathematics! It was a basic! It was an essential basic that _should not_ be skipped under _any_ circumstances!

For the entirety of the two hour History lesson, both Harry and Hayato combed through the ingredient preparation book and one of the chemistry texts that they had also bought from the muggle-world, cross-referencing ingredient preparations and techniques with chemistry techniques and discussing whether or not the science was applicable to the magic. Apparently, Potions was more likely than not to be very close cousins to Chemistry.

Hermione seemed torn between telling them off and joining in while Ron's face was a picture of stark horror from three rows down.

And then it was time for Potions.

Getting down to the Dungeons was dizzying and confusing to Hayato who tried to keep track of the landmarks – which constantly moved, again a suit of armour saluted to him as he passed – but they were moving so quickly it was a lost cause. Hermione babbling at length about how to get through Snape's lesson as best as possible without being verbally abused or having strange poisons tested on him or losing them over two-hundred points in a lesson or get hurt via exploding cauldrons, etc, etc, also distracted and overwhelmed him a little as he tried to follow her advice and keep track of everything around him at the same time. Eventually losing the thread of conversation AND where he was in the grand scheme of the castle.

It wasn't until they actually reached the Dungeons that they remembered one of the other hurdles they had to face that lesson: The Slytherins themselves.

"There they are!" Parkinson shrieked, pointing as they turned down into the corridor that the Potions lab was.

Harry sucked in a deep breath, knowing already that this lesson was going to be a trial for his patience, and mentally reminding himself that he couldn't go throwing around curses in the middle of the corridor – he might accidentally hurt someone. Azkaban was no joke, don't kill the Slytherins. Don't kill the Slytherins.

"I suppose you should count yourself lucky, Mudblood, given how Potter's been practicing for you since first year, swallowing Snitches. I bet you've been putting him to good use!" Parkinson cackled maliciously.

Must not kill the Slytherins.

"The whole Quidditch Team probably helped," Malfoy continued with a nasty smirk.

Must not let _Hayato_ kill the Slytherins.

Harry cursed under his breath, grabbing the back of his robes in an iron grip, "Hayato, no! Remember what Hermione said about inbreeding causing mental defects! You can't bully the retarded, it's mean!" he scolded, loudly enough to be heard by the Slytherins who all went bright red with fury just as the Gryffindors burst out laughing. Harry considered it a quip well delivered when he felt Hayato relax, not enough for him to consider letting go of his robes, but enough that he was no longer actively pulling him backwards.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor, Mister Potter," Snape's voice snarled through the corridor, silencing the laughter and reaffixing the smug-smirks back onto the Slytherins faces. The man himself swept out of the shadows and into the classroom, throwing the door open and glaring at the assembled students, "Get in there, now," he commanded shortly, eyes narrowing with great dislike on Harry and Hayato, the former sighing and doing as told, the later bristling like an angry cat even as he was dragged inside. "Thirty points from Gryffindor for your lack of appropriate attire, Gokudera," the Potions Master added viciously as dark eyes raked down the unmarked black robe. Harry quickly pushed the seething Italian inside before he could say anything.

Inside the classroom, Harry quickly went about setting up his and Hayato's workstation after handing him the spare robe, since he knew damn well that Snape would assign them together as Hayato had _zero_ potions experience, and thus Snape could take away the maximum number of points for anything that may or may not occur to his liking. Such as existing.

Snape began as usual, register, snide commentary regarding boyfriends and better halves and idiot Gryffindors, the Slytherins snickering amidst themselves as Hayato bristled worse than Uri when confronted with bath water, and then putting the potion instructions on the board and telling them to get on with it. Standard Operating Procedure. No problem, Harry could deal with this.

"I'll get the ingredients, could you fill the Cauldron with water? Three cups worth," he said as he got to his feet and headed to the supply cupboard. It was a simple Bruise Balm which he had been making on the sly in not-so-secret since first year. The twins advised that he look to getting some extra pots from Madam Pomfrey due to Quidditch. Instead, feeling too awkward to go to the nurse, Harry took to brewing it on his own in the shower-rooms on weekends. Often he ended up maxing out his stock by the end of summer holidays and needing to brew more during the year, so it was one of the few potions he knew inside out by the back of his hand. He didn't even need to check the board as he gathered the ingredients.

**CRASH**

"WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT TESORO?" Hayato's voice roared from across the other side of the room, along with the sound of a cauldron hitting the floor. Harry jerked and whipped around just in time to see Hayato's foot plant itself into Draco Malfoy's face and launch him across the otherside of the room. "I'LL KICK YOUR FUCKING ASS!"

"MY FACE! ARGH! MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS YOU MUDBLOOD MENACE!" the blond roared, reaching for his wand.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_" Harry snarled, wand lashing through the air and wrenching the hawthorne wand out from the blond's fingers before he could even pull a spell off.

Before it reached him though, it stopped and sped off in another direction, Harry's wand wrenching free from his fingers to follow it. The wands landed neatly in Professor Snape's hand even as both Dean and Seamus grabbed Hayato and hauled him away from Malfoy – who received a second kick to the face while everyone was distracted watching the Potion's Professor summoning their wands.

"GO AND RUN TO YOUR FATHER YOU LIMP-DICKED, PATHETIC, WASTE OF SPACE!" Hayato roared, straining against the two fourteen year olds who were clinging desperately to the tables on order to prevent themselves from being dragged forward, expressions of barely contained panic and amazement on their faces because – fucking _hell_ he was strong! "YOU DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO LICK THE BOTTOM OF TESORO'S _SHOES_! _NON MI ROMPERE I COGLIONI, TROIA!_" he roared, devolving into vicious Italian curses.

"_What_ did he say?" Pansy Parkinson hissed, looking at Zabini who looked like someone had slapped him and called his mother a whore.

"Basically? '_Don't fuck with me, bitch_'. With a female emphasis on bitch," he explained in an undertone as both Harry and Ron joined in on the efforts to drag Hayato away from the sobbing and bleeding Malfoy. Growling furiously, the silver haired boy instead gave up his efforts to murder the blond and instead bundled Harry up against him, hugging him tightly, one hand knotting in his hair, the other around his waist.

"Nott, Crabbe, take Draco to the Hospital Wing. Everyone OUT! You are dismissed," Snape hissed, his voice strained with tightly leashed violence that made Harry shudder a little and shift, gently pushing away Hayato's hands as he stood between the livid man and the volatile Storm Guardian. The Professor bore down on the two of them, looming over Harry's somewhat lacking height and somehow managing to tower over the only slightly shorter Hayato, his wand hand trembling as if he wished for nothing more than to use it and curse the pair of them into greasy smears across the floor but refrained for now due to the number of witnesses still filing reluctantly out the door. Almost absently, Harry recalled mention of Malfoy being Snape's godson. He wondered how Sirius would have reacted to Draco attacking him like that and had to fight off a flinch when the professor came to a stop directly in front of them. He wouldn't have hesitated to hurt Malfoy. Mainly because he was a Slytherin who had hurt his godson. Harry loved Sirius, but he was just as bad as he rest of his family in terms of prejudice, just looking at it from a different angle.

Snape took a deep breath, as if to marshal his self-control before speaking as the door swung shut behind an anxious Hermione, "Eighty points from Gryffindor, Potter," he hissed, dark eyes glittering poisonously, "Like father-like son, both of you too inept, to arrogant and selfish to keep your pet monsters muzzled and chained appropriately," he sneered. "Setting rabid beasts on your betters that have no place in society and should have been drowned at birth," he sneered.

"Don't talk about Remus and Hayato like that!" Harry snapped, squaring up to the older man, no longer stood defensively in front of Hayato but now defiantly standing straight and aggressively challenging.

"I WILL SPEAK OF THEM AS THEY DESERVE TO BE SPOKEN OF! One day, Potter, your pet will turn and bite the hand that feeds it and then where will you be?" the Potions Master sneered, not looking away from the stubborn Gryffindor boy glaring at him. Glaring at him with Lily's eyes. The same look she wore when she defended _him_ from Potter. The same look she wore when she was alive. Before he got her killed. "A weak willed, spineless Hufflepuff waste of space would never stand firm against the machinations of the Dark Lord. It would only be a matter of time until his weakness betrays you to your death," he hissed.

"You – " Harry felt hands land on his shoulders and pull him backwards.

Snape's eyes widened as the youth behind Potter suddenly grabbed him and pulled him backwards, pivoting on his back leg and _slamming_ a kick into his jaw.

It was reflex that had him fire the _Sectumsempra_ at neck height as he fell backwards, even as his blood chilled upon realising he was about a murder a brat in the middle of Hogwarts.

Potter's reflexes however, seemed to have bred true in his son. The boy wrenched the foreigner down, the curse sailing harmlessly overhead to gouge into the stone of the Dungeon wall.

"_**URI! CAMBIO FORMA!**_"

Scarlet light flooded the room as Harry found himself being dragged to his feet and pushed behind Hayato.

For Snape, while he may not have been all that familiar with the muggle world lately due to his prior Death Eater leanings, he was not the forgetful sort. He knew immediately what was strapped to the Italian's body as the scarlet light faded away. If he started throwing dynamite around, who knew what it would do to the Potion ingredients in the room, never mind the still open supply cupboard. Potentially, they could blow up the entire castle.

Stunning charms were flung at the pair. He would ditch their unconscious bodies at Dumbledore's feet and see how far the old man bent backwards trying to keep Potter in school this time.

Black bones snapped out, translucent shields stretched between the obsidian limbs, blocking the dark red spells from reaching their targets.

"I'll fucking KILL you before letting you lay a finger on Tesoro, you fucking asshole!" the Italian roared fiercely, raising his gauntlet and filling it with Storm Flame.

Harry swore, this was getting out of hand. His wand was nowhere in sight and with the rate Snape was throwing around stunners he didn't fancy his chances of being able to find it any time soon.

One thing for it!

He bolted. Ducking out from behind the shields and sprinting for the door.

"Tesoro!"

"Potter!"

He burst out of the door, sending Gryffindors and Slytherins scattering with yells and squeals, and, in that split-second, Hayato puffed in front of him, bewildered and with wide eyes. Harry didn't stop. Twisting a little to the side, he grabbed the volatile young man around the waist and _kept running_. Putting as much distance between himself and the Potions' lab as possible. Hayato forced to stumble along with him, or risk falling over.

He didn't stop until they were in the entrance hall where Hayato got roughly dumped on the floor, "What the _hell_ were you thinking?" the Gryffindor yelled at him, dismayed and irritated all at the same time, his heart hammering in his chest like a humming bird as he gasped for air. "You can't just – _attack_ a teacher!" he exclaimed.

"He was insulting you!" Hayato yelled back, jumping to his feet.

"He's been doing that since day one!" Harry returned furiously.

"He was insulting your father!"

"SINCE. DAY. ONE!" Harry continued even louder than before. "Snape is a sour, bitter old man who can't let go of a schoolyard grudge – AND HAS SAVED MY LIFE MORE TIMES THAN I CARE TO THINK ABOUT!" he yelled, "I don't like him, I fucking HATE him for the way he treats me and Neville and Hermione and fucking EVERYONE who ISN'T a Slytherin! But it. Is. Just. One. Of. Those. THINGS! You just have to grit your teeth and bare it because like it or not, I need potions! It's part of the core curriculum and as shitty a teacher as he is, he's also one of the best Potion Master's in the damn country and despite being an asshole, actually gives a shit about the lives of his students which is more than I can say for Dumbledore at times!" he bellowed, only for his brain to catch up with what his lips just spat out and clamp both hands over his mouth in horror.

Hayato didn't care, "He said I would get you killed," he bit out, he wasn't going to let that stand. He should have fucking killed that asshole. "I swore my life to you..."

Slowly, Harry's hands dropped from his mouth, "... So did the Marauders," he muttered softly.

"Harry!" Hermione called from the stairs, the class practically boiling up after her – all of them puffing and panting with the effort of trying to keep up. "Wha-what happened?" she gasped.

Harry stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, "Hayato and Snape disagreed," he stated shortly.

"Some disagreement," Pavarti muttered, "He was swearing up a blue-streak when you ran out of there," she stated, glancing between the subdued Boy Who Lived, and the livid looking hot Italian. "Trouble in paradise?" she asked, eyebrow raising.

"Difference in opinion," Harry grunted glancing over at Hayato who scowled and looked away, stubbornly refusing to apologise.

_**000**_

By the end of Lunch, word that Hayato had not only broken Draco Malfoy's nose and put him in the Hospital Wing by kicking him repeatedly in the face, but that he had also gotten into a fight with Professor Snape and kicked _him_ in the face as well was known throughout the whole school. The twins came over to praise him and shake his hands, slapping him on the back proudly and saying they always knew he was a great guy. Other Gryffindors all came over to sing his praises and thank him, even Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws came over to talk to him. Meanwhile, Harry sat next to him didn't say a word and continued to eat his lunch without comment. Harry's feelings on the matter were _really_ conflicted. And Hayato's alternative preening and kicked puppy glances he occasionally shot him were not helping.

On the one hand, he really, _really_ wanted to congratulate Hayato, praise him, tell him how cool that was – because it really was. He had no idea what those bone things were, or the weird gauntlet that filled with the same scarlet flame that came out of Uri's ears, but it was still pretty cool. On the other, he attacked a teacher for just insulting him. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had attacked Snape as well, but that was to save Sirius and Remus from the Dementors he was determined to drag them in front of. Attacking someone _just_ for insulting you wasn't right. That was being a bully. And Harry _hated_ bullies. He had suffered enough at Dudley's hands for being disagreeable, and Malfoy was always one to throw the first insult and the first curse when he didn't like what was being said. Harry... just didn't know how to feel. He hated them, he didn't want to hurt them, he just... wanted them to stop. If he had the choice he would just self-study and never return, hell, he would probably do better with self-study now given the books that – ah... he would have to ask Hayato for permission to read them.

He resolutely didn't look over at him as another group of Hufflepuff students came over to thank him for standing up to the Wicked Warlock of the Dungeon.

Thankfully, given how everyone had been kicked out without the chance to gather their things, when Hermione and the rest of the class returned to Snape's room in order to gather their belongings, Hermione was able to collect Harry's wand and belongings. So he would at least be able to avoid Professor Snape until their next lesson.

"What do we have next?" he heard Ron ask, looking between them.

"Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione admitted, her voice carrying a tone of dread.

Harry didn't even try to refrain from planting his head on the table with a groan. Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid's Blast End Skewrts, today of all days. Just what he needed to put the proverbial cherry atop a shitty cake of a day.

"Magical Creatures?" Hayato asked, his voice just a little shy of sparkling. Harry felt a brief odd mix of malicious amusement, pity, and guilt. '_Prepare to be disappointed_,' he thought, wondering how he would react to Hagrid's idea of cute and cuddly pets. He just hoped they didn't end up having to give the fucking menaces a bath again. That was... Well, last he heard, Seamus was going to have those scars for the rest of his life.

The walk down to Hagrid's hut was awkward, what with Hayato bouncing in barely contained anticipation, only to take one glance at Harry who was resolutely not looking at him, and deflate awkwardly and become stony, and equally quiet. Hermione looking between them, bewildered because – since when did Harry complain about someone punching/kicking _Snape_ of all people?

"What is _that_?" the Italian yelped, spotting the enclosure with the Blast End Skewrts, his eyes widening as with one massive bang from its rear-end one of the females shot forward a good ten feet.

"Blast End Skewrts. We're raising them as a class-project this year," Harry explained dully. "The females have suckers on their stomachs to drink blood. The males have stingers on their tails. They both explode from the arse end," he continued looking for the one that Hagrid had affectionately named Daisy for her slightly paler shell. "That one is ours," he stated blandly, pointing her out. She was hunched over a side of beef, hissing at anything and everything that came near.

She was the biggest of the group. Four feet long, looking more like a lobster than a crab, her hard grey shell was a little lighter and her claws were bigger. She was the better fed of them given how Harry tended to treat her like Ripper at the best of times – throw food at it to keep it occupied and then do what needed to be done while it was eating.

"They're _beautiful_!" the Italian exclaimed, making the other students stop and stare at him.

"I wonder what that says about Harry if he thinks that," Lavender whispered to Pavarti.

Harry sighed, "You may be changing your mind sooner rather than later," he muttered, eyeing his first friend who came over, grinning through his singed beard, leashes in hand. They were walking the Skrewts again today.

_**000**_

Hayato didn't change his mind.

In fact, it was safe to say that he liked the Skrewts _more_ now they that had exploded, stung, and bitten him, than before when he had first seen them. Harry was trying to wrap his mind around that but for now had given up in favour of just getting Daisy back into the enclosure without turning himself into lunch. It was proving problematic since Pavarti and Lavender's male, Oatmeal, seemed to think that if he presented Harry to Daisy, he would be allowed to mate with her. And the two girls were finding it difficult holding him back. In the end, Harry summoned a slab of beef from Hagrid, tossed it in the enclosure, pointed it out to Daisy and Oatmeal and stood well-clear as the two rampaged toward it, and then got into a fight, exploding and clawing and hissing and stinging over who got to eat it.

It was a rather muddy and singed group of fourth-years that came into dinner that evening, tired and sore, they sat down and started pulling food towards them. Harry could barely taste what he was eating he was so tired, numbly chewing on a few slices of buttered bread. He was still ignoring Hayato who, right now, wasn't noticing as he was too busy questioning Hermione about the Skrewts and the species that she brought up. He seemed particularly interested in the Fire Crabs and Manticores that she seemed to think the Skrewts were bred from.

Harry didn't much care, he just ate. He was too tired to get involved right now.

Not even the sudden inpour of Post Owls prompted him to look up from where he was drooping into his bread, at least until Hermione screeched at the copy of the Daily Prophet in her hands.

"Harry! Harry! That – she – " the bushy haired girl couldn't seem to articulate her outrage and disbelief, so instead she thrust the newspaper out to him wordlessly, almost knocking over her goblet of pumpkin juice as she did so.

Taking the newspaper, Harry smoothed it out and blanched the second he got a look at the title and by-line.

**HARRY POTTER REVEALS ALL!  
Intimate, private, talks reveal the truth as he knows it, Halloween 1991!**  
Page 2

**YOU KNOW WHO AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE  
Is he as gone as we really believe?**  
Page 5

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS!  
Who, What, When, and Why?**  
Page 7

**PASSION AND DEDICATION!  
Hayato Gokudera pledges life to Harry Potter! Day One and this Fiery Romance is Heating Up!**

Page 9

"How..." Harry trailed off helplessly, staring at the paper before looking up at the equally shocked Hayato.

He yanked the paper open, eyes skimming the text – ridiculously fast with the Wind Reading Enchantments on his glasses which kicked in just then, speeding up not only his reading speed but also his comprehension speed. A very difficult and very nifty piece of enchantment that not many knew of.

_Speaking out for the first time about his past to Ritual Given lover,  
Hayato Gokudera, Harry Potter explains the truth of that tragic night  
thirteen years ago that stole the lives of Lily and James Potter after  
unspeakably rude, Janus Peekoms, recent Ravenclaw Graduate and  
now Stock Assistant of Flourish and Blotts, interrupted what was  
panning out to be a pleasant afternoon together in Diagon Alley by  
asking the very question that many have been tempted, but been too  
polite to voice: Do you remember what happened that night?_

_A question that would have had Rowena Ravenclaw rolling in her  
grave, and justifiably so._

"_This really isn't easy to explain." Harry Potter begins unhappily,  
twisting his napkin into shreds after a meal shared in anticipatory  
silence within a private parlour of the Leaky Cauldron.  
"You were told about the Purebloods, right? How they look  
down on people with muggle-blood. Well, it was a little more serious  
than that. Several Purebloods started working for a man calling himself  
You Know Who (I apologise, dear readers for this misprint, Harry  
Potter is a far braver wizard than I to use You Know Who's real name.  
For ease of reading, I have edited You Know Who's name out for those  
with weaker constitutions), their goals are a little murky, no one is  
hundred percent certain what they were aiming for, it seemed to  
change so often. But either way, the results were murders, terror, rape,  
destruction. It got so bad that people refused to ever say You Know  
Who's name, saying You Know Who, and He Who Must Not Be Named  
instead. That's why skulls have such a bad rap here, snakes too. It was  
his symbol. A skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. He would cast  
it into the sky where-ever he and his people had committed an act of  
murder or brutality. Signing their work, so to speak. They had pretty  
much taken over the Government and were on the way to winning  
when... he decided to try and murder me."_

_Harry grimaces, "No one knows why. I used to think he was after my  
parents and everyone was just dramatizing it. Mum was a muggleborn  
and one of the best Charms Mistresses of the age, and my Dad was a  
Light Pureblood from a pretty influential family standing against him.  
But I found out last year that they were right. It __was__ me he was after.  
Last year, there were Dementors guarding the school." Here, Harry  
continues to explain Dementors and their effects in such detail that this  
Reporter wonders just how he came to be so intimately familiar with  
the sensations of utmost despair and cold they instil upon their victims,  
and even more terrifying... Their appearances beneath the Hood. "It's  
horrible. They're horrible. They look like a corpse that's been drowned.  
No eyes, no noses, grey rotting skin with holes for ears and a mouth, no,  
a __maw__. Just a gaping, sucking black maw for a mouth. Lipless, toothless,  
and cold._

"_Whenever they came close, I could hear him murder her. Murder my  
mother," Harry whispers in the silence of the small Parlour, empty save for  
ourselves and my presence unknown. "I – I have bad reactions to  
Dementors. The first time one came into our train compartment, I  
collapsed. It felt like I was drowning and all I could hear was screaming.  
It sounded as if it were coming through a bad radio and then... then the  
next time she was saying my name. It - It was the only time I ever heard  
her voice. When they got near to me. And I - as much as I hated them,  
how they made me feel I - I wanted to hear her again. It was the only real  
proof I had that she loved me. My Aunt constantly told me that I was  
unwanted, unloved, a burden, and a freak. That my parents died in a  
drunk driving accident (A not too dissimilar problem from Flying a  
Broomstick under the influence, but with more fatal consequences). _

"_But I could hear her begging him, begging Voldemort to spare me.  
To take her life instead of mine."_

Harry stopped reading. "How did she know?" he demanded furiously absolutely white-faced with rage, "She wasn't even in the room! How could she – _She had no right!_" he snarled throwing the paper down and glaring at it, trying to set it on fire with his eyes. Instead, Hayato picked it up and continued reading, his own reading glasses now perched on the tip of his nose as he skimmed the text much faster than anyone without the enchantments would have managed.

"It is, word for word, accurate," he admitted unhappily, flipping to the other articles with a steadily growing frown, "Even the other pieces of information are word for word what we discussed. Whoever this woman is, she's very thorough," he decided, sounding as if he weren't sure whether or not to be impressed or angry. "Do Wizards have libel laws? Anything about breach of privacy or publishing information regarding Minors without their parent's of Guardian's consent?" he asked, glancing to Hermione who blinked, her eyes widening in surprise. Apparently the thought had never occurred to her.

Harry decided he could no longer be fucked with any of this and returned to his bread, angrily chewing on the plain crusts and glaring darkly over the Great Hall as everyone seemed to take his reaction as another affirmation of the article's truth and dove straight in, ignoring food in favour of reading.

Well, at least now if Malfoy talked shit about his mother, no one would _ever_ blame him for putting his head through a window. Unfortunately, it also meant that Malfoy knew which parent to insult if he really wanted to set him off. Bad for him that Harry had been listening to his Aunt insult her since childhood, and was thus quite capable of keeping his calm when angry. At least, better than he had been last year when he made Aunt Marge blow up like a balloon.

"Is it true?" Neville asked, looking up from the paper, his face stricken, "You can – you remember that night?" he breathed, face twisted in concern. "Surely the Mind Healers erased it for you!"

"What Healers?" Harry demanded shortly, viciously tearing into his bread. "Hagrid dug me out of the house, carted me off to Dumbledore who dropped me off on my Aunt's Doorstep like a bottle of fucking milk and left. There were no Healers, no Aurors, nothing."

Neville stared at him in open mouthed horror, "No one tried to put you with m- with your Godmother?" he asked anxiously.

Harry sat up, bread dropping, "I have a Godmother?" he asked, stunned.

Neville's face fell, "Oh, I... I guess that explains that. No, not anymore, Harry," he told the other Gryffindor softly as he returned to the paper.

The smaller of the pair swore under his breath, returning to his bread, even as the twins skipped past them.

"Hurry up kiddies! Party at Gryffindor Tower for the Man of the Hour!" they exclaimed interrupting Hermione and Hayato's conversation and clapping the Italian on the shoulders to emphasize just who that man was before making their way out, likely as not heading to the Kitchens as they certainly didn't turn off towards the Marble Staircase.

"Oh Harry..." Hermione moaned in sympathetic pain even as she scrambled around Hayato and wrapped him up in her tightest hug to date. "I had no idea!" she told him earnestly. "I'm so sorry I ever doubted your reasons for learning from Professor Lupin!"

"Huh? No, it's okay, Hermione," he told her awkwardly, patting the girl's back before she drew away. "At least I got to hear her. I got to know that she did love me. That's more than most have," he pointed out optimistically. Judging by her facial expression, the forced grin on his face was decidedly less convincing than he had hoped.

_**000**_

**And that's chapter 7 done, because my fingers hurt.**


	8. Resolution and Rules

_**000**_

**Storming Skies**

_It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament_. Gokudera/Harry.

_**000**_

**Chapter Eight  
Resolution and Rules**

_**000**_

The party went off in true Gryffindor Style.

Any mention of the newspaper was ignored and cast aside, none of them would venture into Party-Pooping territory. It was one of the few undisputed rules of the House. When there was a Party, you tried to enjoy yourself and not bring it down for anyone else. Last year Hermione got a few frowns for spending the Quidditch After-Party studying but, given her massive workload, she was forgiven. She had pretty much been established in the house as the most Ravenclaw Lion to have ever walked their Halls. That was fine and accepted, she didn't even attempt to bring anyone else down and left fairly quickly – though Ron got more than a little heckling for sending a girl off crying to her room. (People were still taking bets on how long it would be until they hooked up.)

In respect for his age (which was revealed to be seventeen), the twins somehow managed to wrangle some Firewhiskey and more adult-like drinks on his behalf. Hayato was no stranger to alcohol, even though he wasn't legal to drink it in Japan that didn't stop him from partaking in a little wine on occasion (he had been drinking it with his evening meals since he was five as was customary in Italy, to get the children used to alcohol from a young age so they wouldn't be uncivilised with it later), or when he was feeling a little less than civilised going for his stash of sake and beer. But even still, that whiskey was _something_ alright! He made a mental note to get himself a stash of that for when he returned to Japan with Harry.

Many people asked for a regaling of the events in the Classroom which Hayato basically boiled down to '_They insulted Harry – so I kicked their asses_'. Apparently this was a perfectly valid reason to kick Snape in the face according to most Gryffindors, and they cheered heartily while demanding blow by blow accounts that he was surprisingly reluctant to give. Meanwhile Harry and Hermione sat a little to the side, the former unsure of how to feel, the latter visibly annoyed but biting her tongue.

"Usually you'd be all over this, telling him off for being rude to a Professor," Lavender observed as she sat down beside them, sipping her Butterbeer. "Don't tell me that just because he's hot you're controlling yourself!" she gasped with a laugh.

Hermione shot her a scathing look, "No, Lavender. I just know full well how bad Snape can get, and given Hayato's current position – well, there's an _etiquette_ to this sort of thing," she told the blonde girl seriously, "I have no right to step in on this, I actually can't."

Lavender's mouth made an almost comical 'o' shape, "You mean the article! You researched it?" she asked, eyes lighting up.

The bushy haired Gryffindor nodded, "Yeah. Hayato had every right to attack him like that. Malfoy too. I can't believe he even _said_ that! I'd have punched him for it if Hayato hadn't," she admitted darkly.

That didn't sound good.

"What did he say?" Harry asked slowly. The girls glanced at him, and then at each other.

"You won't like it," Hermione warned at the same time Lavender said: "He asked when Italian Hotness over there was going to start pimping you out and how much it was going to be."

"Lavender!" Hermione exclaimed, horrified and annoyed that she could be so blunt.

"What?! He wanted to know!" she defended.

"That's not – ugh!" Hermione dropped her head into her hands, Harry kind of sympathised, he felt the same way about Ron more than once. Thick as two short planks was the saying he believed. He sighed and leaned back on the sofa, watching as Hermione tried to explain the problem with just blurting out what people wanted to know. Like, what if Harry took deep mortal offence and decided to go and break Malfoy's neck while he lay in the Hospital Wing? Harry snorted as he sipped his drink, drawing his knees up to his chest on the sofa (as the Man of the Hour, Hayato got the best seat in the house. However, as he was glued to Harry like a burr, that seat became a sofa instead of an armchair). Like hell Malfoy was worth the Azkaban sentence, or even the effort it took to go down to the Hospital Wing to commit the act! He was way too tired to even attempt a murder right now.

He set his now empty drink aside and settled back to watch the merry-making, ignoring yet another enthusiastic second year asking about what happened to Snape and how they got out of that mess. The twins were doing some kind of dance involving one of the School's old brooms and a lampshade that looked like it had been filched from Trelawny's classroom. Collin was taking copious amounts of pictures while his little brother, Dennis, was flicking Butterbeer corks across the floor for Crookshanks to chase, Ginny laughing as she joined in (only glancing their way a few times hopefully). The Chasers were all clustered together with a few of the older girls giggling and laughing over something in Witch Weekly as they drank from their Butterbeers. A few of the younger years were in some kind of sweet-contest where they would randomly pick a sweet out from someone's hat without looking and eat it – so far there had been two Canaries and one poor sucker wailing about earwax flavoured Bertie Botts, three squeaking and breathing out cool mist as they tossed back an Ice Mice, and another howling about biting into an Acid Pop.

Hermione sighed, she was getting absolutely nowhere on her own. Explaining things to Lavender was like trying to explain them to Ron, only she was obsessed with make-up and boys, instead of Quidditch, chess, and food. She turned in order to get Harry's help but... well, that was a pointless endeavour.

"Awww, that's so cute," Lavender cooed softly, smiling over Hermione's shoulder. She couldn't disagree.

Harry had fallen asleep on the sofa, curled up into a ball. It didn't happen very often, Harry was a light sleeper and had difficulties letting his guard down around people so it was a bit of a treat to see him like this. Glasses slightly askew, head resting on his knees, tipping ever so lightly to one side until –

Hayato blinked as something soft lurched into his side and several girls aww'd out loud. He lifted an arm and looked down, spotting Harry's unruly mop of hair against him.

"He fell asleep. We should probably get him to bed," Hermione said, getting to her feet and moving to shake him awake.

Hayato gaped at her and shook his head, "No! Don't wake him up! If he's tired, let him sleep!" he told her sternly, shocked that she could be so callous when she was Harry's so called bestfriend. Though, considering, she was a girl, she could hardly be expected to get him up to the boys dormitories on her own. No, she was being courteous in waking Tesoro up in order to send him to bed, his own bed, not somewhere down here in the open around all these rowdy people and pranksters.

Getting to his feet, he easily scooped the Gryffindor up, one arm under his knees, the other supporting his back. Harry shifted a little, turning his face into Hayato's shoulder, but he didn't wake up and the Storm Guardian felt his heart melt a little as he carried the dark haired boy towards the dormitories. He didn't think to say goodnight to anyone or even to finish his drink, he just left, too busy staring at the long dark eyelashes that rested against pale freckled cheeks.

There was just... a not so small problem, he realised upon reaching the dormitories with his precious cargo and laying him down on his bed.

Tesoro would be very uncomfortable sleeping in his robes, he would wake-up with red and sore creases across his delicate skin, not to mention his robes would be mussed and creased and not fit to be seen. But on the other hand, was it right, morally, for Hayato to change him into his night clothes?

The Italian sweated anxiously, staring down at the sleeping form of the boy he was, essentially, attempting to court (even though in his head they were as good as married, being Soul Mates and all, Harry wasn't quite there yet and needed wooing properly – he deserved absolutely no less! And it was was half the fun of a relationship too really). ARGH! On the one hand, he didn't want Tesoro to be uncomfortable while sleeping, on the other he didn't want him to wake up and be uncomfortable because Hayato changed him in his sleep. But on the other hand, Hayato kind of really wanted to touch him, see him, but on the other he felt horrible for wanting to do so before Harry was ready and – ARRGGH! WHAT TO DO? JUUDAIME! WHAT SHOULD I DO!

Hayato gripped his hair in despair as he felt dizzy with the possibilities and consequences of what may happen if he went with his purer intentions or his baser intentions and...

"You had better not be even _thinking_ about changing his clothes," a sudden voice grit out from the doorway, making Hayato tense and practically jump a mile as he whirled around, ready to start bellowing at the little shitstain who startled him.

Neville stood looming in the doorway was the last person he expected to see, let alone have such a dark look on his face. For such a seemingly timid overweight young boy, he suddenly seemed very intimidating as he stomped across the room and stood between Hayato and Tesoro. The older boy glanced between the chubby boy and Hermione who had obviously just followed him up, the girl smirking a little as she tried to hide her amusement. What? WHAT! WHAT WAS SO DAMN FUNNY?

"There are rules! You can't take advantage of him while he's sleeping!" Neville grit out to him, folding his arms and glaring up at him protectively. "Turn around! NO PEEKING!" the brunet suddenly barked in his face, making Hayato stiffen almost immediately out of reflex and whip around to face the far wall. Hermione giggled as Neville glared suspiciously at Hayato's back and drew Harry's bed-hangings closed on that side, "Hermione, warn me if he tries to sneak a peek, and curse his balls off," the brunet requested as he rounded the bed and went to the otherside and tugged Harry's nightclothes out from under his pillow.

"Got it!" the Gryffindor girl chirped in amusement as Hayato's face glowed pink.

"I wouldn't!" he spluttered.

"Rules!" Neville snapped in return as he tugged Harry's shoes off and set them under the bed where he usually put them. Harry was surprisingly neat when it came to his personal belongings and such, before, Neville thought nothing of it, most Purebloods were. But finding out that Harry hadn't even been raised as a Wizard, raised as a muggle, ignorant to even having a Godmother... The chubby Gryffindor had watched the pair carefully ever since the article came out, in particular, how some things were just not... Ron was Harry's bestfriend, the 'Chaperone' so to speak and Harry's Protectorate as the Pureblood of the Golden Trio. He wasn't doing his job. That only became more obvious when he allowed Hayato to take Harry upstairs alone, unprotected and asleep where _anything_ could happen! Not acceptable!

He gently manoeuvred Harry out of his robes and set them to one side, before getting him into the oversized T-shirt that he used as a nightshirt. "There's etiquette to these situations," he explained in an undertone to the drawn hangings that faced Hayato Gokudera. "Ron should be up here chaperoning the two of you, especially since Harry is asleep and vulnerable. He's not doing his job as Protectorate so I'm stepping in, as is my right," he explained firmly as he gently folded the other Gryffindor's arms through his sleeves. "Harry doesn't know, but he _is_ my Godbrother. Lily Potter was my Godmother, just like Alice Longbottom, my mother, was _His_ Godmother."

Hermione gaped, "Why didn't you _say_ anything? He'd have loved to know that!" she scolded in disbelief.

Neville shook his head as he wrestled the other arm through, "Ron asked me not to. It was in Second Year. Harry had enough on his plate with the whole Chamber of Secrets thing going on. Plus... After You Know Who's fall, Death Eaters broke into our House looking for information because they knew our mothers were close... Ron said that if Harry found out he would blame himself, so... I kept it quiet," he admitted as he contemplated the pyjama trousers before shaking his head. Harry was small and shockingly light, but Neville didn't think he could get him into the trousers without waking him up as well. He took the boy's jeans off and then got him settled under the covers in his boxers and that oversized shirt. Folding both trousers, robes, shirt, and hooking his tie up, he put everything where it was supposed to go.

Hermione seethed, even her hair was bristling, "Excuse me. I have a letter to write," she grit out, her eyes narrowing before she turned on heel and stalked out of the dormitories.

Neville let her go as he turned to face the Italian, "It's fine now. But there's some things _you_ need to know. The way you behave toward Harry can severely affect his standing in society from here on out. You need to be aware of this!" he warned severely.

"M-Me?" Hayato croaked, paling slightly.

Neville nodded, "Sit. We'll start with the Ritual Rules. Wild Magic has her own way of doing things, but even she instils rules on the Rituals she enforces," he explained seriously as the Italian sat on his own bed. Neville rounded it and headed to his own, he would have been happier to sleep between the two now that he was aware that Ron hadn't been fulfilling his duties, but that was impossible, the bond distance just would not allow an extra body in the middle, especially at this early stage.

"You called on Wild Magic in order to fulfil this ritual, she's got her own Rules on the matter. She dishes out the punishment for them as she sees fit, often threefold. If you try to hurt him, purposefully, intentionally to hurt him, it'll rebound onto you threefold. Like if you punch him, the pain of that punch will be tripled and then hit you. Three times. That's the way Wild Magic works. She's generally okay chugging along, doing you a favour if you beseech her nicely enough and offer her a little thing. But if you cross her or take advantage of her, she will bitch-slap you so hard your children will feel it," the Wizard told him seriously. "So, no trying to hurt each other. Accidents happen, so don't be afraid of breaking him. But intent is everything. If you _intend_ to hurt, kiss your balls goodbye. If it happens three times, you get Cursed and the bond is broken. Violently and messily.

"Don't even try messing with the Ritual Boundaries. Say you want to make the distance between you a little bigger? That'll wear off and then you'll have to suffer the consequences. Wild Magic doesn't like being messed with, I told you. So, don't fuck with the Ritual, make it longer, shorter, change the distance between you, or even the person you end up bound to. This applies to other people too. So if someone tries to bond themselves to you or Harry or tries to get in the middle or tries to break your bond and neither of you want them to, Wild Magic will slap them. And they won't like the consequences. Seriously. It gets messy in the stories.

"And finally, you can't perform any Rituals while under this one. You can't do another one of these Rituals while you're under this one, just like you can't do any other kind. No Ward Rituals, no Blood Rituals, no Dark Magic Rituals, no Light Magic Rituals. No rituals _at all_. They're just not going to work," the brunet explained seriously as he shifted on his bed.

Hayato nodded, "No worries on that. I would never even try to hurt Tesoro, and I can't really do any rituals or mess with the bond. I'm a Hedge Wizard, can't use a wand," he explained.

Neville shook his head, "My family thought I was a Hedge Wizard growing up. You'd be surprised what you're capable of if you know how. Don't mess with them," he ordered sternly. "Socially... Socially there's a lot more rules. But you're given a three-days grace period to start with, no one expects you two to act like the perfect couple when you're still trying to deal with the fact you're leashed to one another and have probably never met before. But pretty much after that, you'll be scrutinised, heavily. You've done almost everything right so far, I mean, beating Malfoy's face in for what he said is perfectly acceptable, if you _hadn't_ it would have been frowned on. But next time, challenge him to a Duel, in public, to defend yours and Harry's honour. Otherwise people will assume you're uncivilised and thus poor in terms of education and upbringing. That'll open up to a lot of people propositioning you to try and make use of Harry as a prostitute or whatever. Malfoy saying what he did was, several decades ago, insulting, but also a pretty valid question. Just because you two are bonded, doesn't mean you're exclusive when it comes to intimacy," he explained, "You can have sex with someone else. Most don't because it would be awkward to do so with an audience. But for the uneducated or uncivilised, there wouldn't be much of a problem as long as you're paid. Silencing charms, turn your back. No problem."

Neville stopped talking and quickly cast a silencing charm on Harry's bed-hangings, mainly because he could see Hayato's face going purple with abject rage.

The explosion of multiple languages and swearing that filled the room only made him glad for that forethought, and of the fact he could only speak English, Latin, and old Gaelic. It took a while for the older boy to run out of steam but the twitching rage that twisted his face as he sat back down had Neville waiting longer. Long enough to see him dig through his pockets, kick a window open, and light up a small rolled piece of paper with dried plants inside of it. Some kind of muggle-pipe?

He watched as Hayato sucked in and breathed out a thick lungful of smoke, still twitching, and gesturing at him to continue.

"Be civilised about insults, got it. Duels and whatever," Hayato grunted, tapping a length of ash out onto the windowsill.

Neville nodded, "Yeah. I said that the Ritual doesn't care whether you have sex with someone else, or if they do, but it's generally considered greedy and bad form to do it. The Ritual gives you the same rights between each other as a married couple. Cheating on him would be like cheating on your wife or husband, it just isn't done if you're being civilised about it all. And since you're considered married, you have to act like it. You've got to put on a show of solidarity in public, no fighting or arguing with each other in front of other people. It's a little more complicated because you're both male, if Harry had been a girl he wouldn't have been allowed to even disagree with you on a polite level. But since you're guys, you're allowed to argue your point, but it has to be done politely and levelly. More like a debate than an argument. And you _both_ have to listen to the other's point since you're both guys. And, even though you're considered married, you _aren't_. It's pretty foolish and damning to have sex before the official ceremony. And since you're under the ritual, you can't get officially married as it involves a minor binding ritual that recognises you as part of one another's family line in the enchantments. So, no sex. No taking advantage of each other until the year-mark is over.

"No lying to one another. Or even about one another. Putting on a falsehood is poor-form and means you're untrustworthy and opens you to the same kind of treatment as being uncivilised would. Only people would assume you're lying when you tell them to go away and that no, you're not interested in their offers. They'll just continue to pester you because it would be considered justified – you're a liar after all.

"You know about Wild Magic slapping you for trying to hurt your partner, well there's social connotations to that too. If you get caught, scrutiny will get more and more intense and sometimes even the Aurors will get involved and give your partner a protection detail. You'd be surprised how often this sort of thing happened in the past or during a war back before girls were allowed to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts. Hogwarts was actually the first school to give female students all the same classes as their male peers.

"And lastly, as you're the older of the two of you, _you're_ the go to for Protection. You're the one who has to protect Harry's honour from snide comments and insults and even physical attacks. Good luck with that. You'll need it. Especially since Harry _still_ gets himself into the Hospital Wing _every_ year, despite being the best in our year at Defence Against the Dark Arts. He won't like you trying to protect him, but you have to do it anyway. Less so than if he was a girl, but – argh, it's a bit of a mine field. Some people would say your kicking Malfoy's face in was enough, others would say it was pointless and you were jumping the gun because he's been dealing with that shit since day one. The waters are really muddy on this aspect. So it's probably best to ignore what people say when it comes to that," he advised.

Hayato sighed, lighting a second cigarette from the end of his first and sticking it in his mouth, "Anything else?" he asked dully, memorising the information and deciding that a lot of it was pointless, Harry was pretty easy going and aside from earlier when he attacked hook-nose for insulting them, they had been doing everything right. The fact that Harry stubbornly stuck to his guns despite obviously wanting to congratulate him as well was amusing and absolutely adorable.

Neville smirked at him, "I'll tell you when it occurs to me," he stated lightly.

_**000**_

Harry was warm, and comfortable. He didn't want to wake up in all honesty, but there was a distinct feeling of something... amiss. Dragging himself up to the land of consciousness, he turned his head and blearily stared at the bedhangings. Why did he feel like he was the wrong way round?

Turning his head to the otherside, he dragged himself up into a sitting position, shivering slightly as his duvet slipped away from him. Too cold! Grumbling silently, he wrapped himself up again and tugged one of the hangings to the side and blinked slowly in the gloom.

What was supposed to be Ron's bed, was in fact the cloak-rack. What...

Oh.

He had been moved to the other side of the room, to make space for Hayato. So they could use the bathroom without ending up popping into one another's beds. Yeah. Pulling the curtain back in place he turned and opened the other, wincing a little as candle-light burned his retinas uncomfortably. He flinched away from the light, squinting uncomfortably as he stared down at what was happening in the space between his and Hayato's bed.

The Italian had strung a sheet up between their beds, creating a kind of privacy curtain from the rest of the room, understandable since he had a fair few candles lit and burning away on the floor and bedside tables as he worked. Worked on... on... the cleaning supplies they had bought yesterday.

Was he making...

"Are those dynamite?" he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

"HIEE!" the seventeen year old jolted so violently he knocked over one of the candles and knocked another two over as he frantically shoved the collection of cleaning supplies and potions equipment that he had been using as a make-shift chemistry lab under his bed, trying to shield as much of it with his body as possible, turning wide jade green eyes at Harry. His hair was pulled back, his glasses were on, and he even had a facemask, a bandanna covered in skulls, around his mouth and nose.

"Tesoro! I – ah – um..."

Harry blinked hazily at him a slow grin of amusement building on his face as Hayato flushed, "What kind of sound was _that_?" he asked quietly in mirth, making the red of the Italian's cheeks darken.

"Ahhh... haha... ha... um... It – it wasn't what it – looked like?" he said, asked, while wincing a little. He had to avoid looking at the dark haired male, he had absolutely no idea what kind of sight he made for sore eyes, or how it was messing with Hayato's self-control. His hair all messy, those beautiful green eyes gleaming in the candle-light without glasses, all lidded and sexy, wrapped up in blankets that offered teasing glimpses of pale bare legs turned gold in the candle light. He swallowed against his dry throat and blushed _hard_ as Harry leaned down and – fuck! _FUCK!_

Picked up a stray dynamite.

"Now... Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm fairly sure these are against school rules?" he questioned with a half smirk, making Hayato squirm because damnit, damnit, _damnit_, not fair! Not fair that he could look that – and that Hayato couldn't – and that he wasn't even trying to – _**damnit!**_

He shifted guiltily, "There, ah, there's nothing actually _in_ the rules that Hermione gave me... So... It isn't, not really?" he questioned.

Harry snorted and flicked it back to him, only, without his glasses his aim went wide – Hayato had to lean to one side in order to catch it, silently deciding that this was his lucky Dynamite and he wasn't going to use it. Ever.

"Why are you making dynamite anyway?" Harry asked sleepily, drawing the bedcovers around him a little more securely as he shifted, sitting up properly with one leg curled under him and the other hanging over the side of the bed. Hayato quickly turned away and regathered his supplies, since Harry didn't seem to have a problem with his making explosives; he had no reason not to continue and to finish. If he stared any longer he would have a bit of a problem.

"They're my weapon. I specialise in midrange explosives. I left my stash back home and I can't always rely on Uri or Cambio Forma in order to protect you," he explained seriously as he picked up the doused candles and relit them, ignoring the spilt wax on the floor.

Harry sighed, "I – thank you, but I don't _need_ protecting, Hayato," he stated firmly.

He shook his head, "Nope. You do. You can fight, I know that, I asked for someone who could take care of themselves and fight _with_ me, but I'm still not going to sit on my ass and let people insult you just because you're not willing to stand up for yourself. Anyone who speaks ill of you is going to get a beat down. That's my duty as a Guardian, and as your _Cavaliere_," he explained firmly as he threaded a fuse. "I _want_ to protect you, so I will. And this is the only way I know how. With overwhelming force."

"But sometimes, doing that, causes more trouble than it's worth, Hayato," Harry tried to explain. "Snape is a hardass, he'll say a lot of shitty stuff. But at the same time, he's also a former Death Eater who knows more Dark Arts than all the seventh year students combined," he pointed out as Hayato went very, _very_ still.

"Death Eaters, they're the people who murdered your parents, right? Why would – "

"He was a spy. At least, that's what they say," Harry admitted, he wasn't sure if he believed them or if he didn't. Snape was just too good at being an asshole and a hero at the same time. "But he very nearly killed you today. And I don't want that to happen again. So please, please _don't_ just attack everyone who upsets you!" he pleaded, sliding off the bed and catching Hayato's arm in order to force him to look him in the eye. "I told you that I didn't want anyone to die for me. That includes getting hurt."

Hayato stared at him and then shifted, too quickly for Harry to react, both arms went around him, under the blanket and pulled him easily into his lap, cold arms warming against Harry's almost super-heated body as he held the other close and tight. He felt him tense violently in his arms.

He sighed deeply against the side of his neck, "I'm sorry, Tesoro. But I just can't sit to one side and let them be so disrespectful. They should be worshipping the dirt you walk on. But I'll be more careful. I promise," he murmured, before he felt hesitant hands against his ribs and then shifting hesitantly to his back, Harry relaxing ever so slightly.

"I guess this is just one of those things we're going to have to agree to disagree on," he heard the younger Gryffindor admit in an undertone and grinned into his messy dark hair. So stubborn.

It felt easy, natural, to get to get to his feet, dragging the blankets with them, ignoring the way Harry tensed up again with a grunt of surprise and sit down on the recently vacated bed. He kicked his shoes off with Harry squirming uncertainly in his lap. He could do dynamite maintenance any time, right now, getting free cuddles with Harry was difficult and often met with uncertain results, he was taking this opportunity! Taking his hair down and his glasses off, he lay back on the bed and dragged Harry down on top of him along with their blankets.

"Can you get the candles?" he asked curiously.

"Err, I'll need my wand," the dark haired boy admitted awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as he leaned forward and over Hayato to the bedside table where it was stored. Hayato twitched and stayed very, _very_, still. He should have thought this over a little more, he'd just shot himself in the foot with their current position and – please, please, please, Kami-sama, not _now_!

"Nox," Harry intoned and the candles snuffed out, the gap between the hangings plunging into darkness. "Err, can you... scooch over a little? I'm a bit..." he trailed off again awkwardly, and Hayato shifted, feeling Harry swing a leg back over him so they were side by side, instead of having Harry straddling him like before. He relaxed some, almost as much as he was a little disappointed as the smaller Gryffindor settled down facing away from him. Hayato reached over and dragged him back against him, he wanted to snuggle.

It didn't take long before they were both fast asleep.

_**000**_

**And done!**

**Cavaliere: Knight**

If anyone is wondering why I didn't go down the rule of "No sex with ANYONE BUT YOUR SOUL MATE SEX IS CONSUMMATION IT IS ETERNAL RAWR" the fuck does Wild Magic care if you got your tip wet? Magic doesn't operate on human societal laws. And especially not modern Western ones. Remember slavery and concubinage have always been a thing throughout history. Wild magic works not just for humans, but also for veela, werewolves, vampires, other magical creatures, even certain kinds of beasts. So yeah. Sex isn't an issue for WM, but it is for society, hence why the Purebloods have their own rules and customs for it. _**And don't worry, Harry isn't going to become a wall flower. More on this in the next chapter. Trust me. I don't like wallflower!submissive!uke!Harry.**_


End file.
